PSYCHOLOGY 



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)C€Ult Psychic Phenomena 



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PSYCHOLOGY 



AS A 



NATURAL SCIENCE 



APPLIED TO THE SOLUTION OF 



Occult Psychic Phenomena 



V,j.f C> G. RAUE, M.D. 




*4 

PHILADELPHIA: 
PORTER & COATES 






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Copyright, 1889, by G. G. Raue, M.I). 




PREFACE. 



The application of psychology as a natural science to the 
solution of occult psychic phenomena implies, first of all, a 
concise statement and a clear understanding of psychology as 
a natural science. For this reason, it was absolutely indis- 
pensable to devote a large space in this work to the elucidation 
of the principles upon which the final conclusions are based. 

Psychology as a natural science is the outcome of Dr. Fried- 
rich Eduard Beneke's labors to base philosophy on firm 
ground. The results of these profound investigations are laid 
down in the two volumes of his " Psychologische SJcizzen" Goet- 
tingen, bei Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1825 and 1827, and in 
many other works. 

In the year 1847 I published a little book under the title 
" Die neue Seelenlehre Dr. Beneke's, nach methodischen Grund- 
sdtzen in einfach entwickelnder Weise fur Lehrer bearbeitet," von 
C. G. Raue, with the object of popularizing Beneke's re- 
searches. This little book is the nucleus of the present 
work. It had five editions in the German language, each 
edition following the first having been revised and augmented 
by my friend and former teacher, J. G. Dressier, Seminar- 
director in Bautzen. In 1859 the third edition was translated 
into Flemish by J. Blockhuys (Ghent, Van Dooselaer), and 
the fourth into English, 1871, under the title " The Elements 
of Psychology, etc." (translator not named), Oxford and Lon- 
don, James Parker & Co. According to the Encyclopaedia 
Britannica there exists also a French translation which, how- 
ever, I have never seen. 

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4 PREFACE. 

Prior to my knowledge of the existence of an English trans- 
lation, I had commenced to render the work into English my- 
self, with such alterations and additions as I deemed necessary; 
and these attempts at conveying my thoughts (originally con- 
ceived in the German idiom) into English were published in 
the New York Quarterly of Homoeopathy, from August, 1871, to 
August, 1874. In the same journal for August, 1870, I added 
a new part ^Physiological Psychology"), not contained in the 
original work. Part V of the present work (which was Part 
IV in the original) I have rewritten and enlarged to a great 
extent, but some of the chapters are presented partially or 
wholly in the language of the English translation, with which 
I had become acquainted in the meantime. 

All this, however, did not fully meet the requirements of 
the investigations into psychological facts so ably and per- 
sistently carried on of late years. To bring the entire work to 
a fitting consummation, it became my work to apply psychol- 
ogy as a natural science to the solution of those apparently 
occult phenomena w T hich, as far as I know, have resisted all 
attempts at solution by the methods of research employed by 
the old psychological as well as the new physiological schools. 

This application of psychology as a natural science to the 
solution of occult phenomena is the culminating point of this 
volume, and the result of my own thought and research. I 
have thus honestly endeavored to add my share of work to 
the grand labors of those indefatigable searchers after truth 
who are endeavoring to solve the vexed questions of psychic 
life and its seemingly mysterious phenomena. 

I am greatly indebted to Dr. E. R. Snader for his valuable 
assistance in seeing the work through the press. 

C. G. Raue. 

Philadelphia, 121 North Tenth St. 



CONTENTS. 



I. — The Intellectual Sphere of the Mind. 

Page 

1. The Senses of Man 9 

2. Cause and Condition of Seeing, Hearing, etc 10 

3. Innate or Primitive Forces and External Stimuli 12 

4. Union between Primitive Forces and Stimuli 13 

5. Acuteness or Sensitiveness of the Primitive Forces 15 

6. Vestiges — Mental Latencies . 16 

7. Eetentiveness of the Primitive Forces — Memory 19 

8. Gradation of the Primitive Forces in regard to their Eetentiveness ... 21 

9. Like Unites with Like and Similar with Similar 24 

10. Origin of Consciousness — Conception 26 

11. Quantitative Eolation of Stimuli to the Primitive Forces 29 

12. Perpetual Alternation between Consciousness and Unconsciousness ... 30 

13. Second Manner in which Consciousness is resuscitated and again ceases 

to be Consciousness 32 

14. Vivacity of the Primitive Forces, and its Influence upon the Process of 

Transient Consciousness 36 

15. Origin of Concepts — Abstraction 39 

16. Gradation of Concepts — Classification — Generalization 42 

17. The Intellect— The Understanding 46 

18. Judging — Judgment 43 

19. Eeciprocal Influence of the Concept and Perception upon each other 

during an Act of Judging 49 

20. Inferences — Syllogisms 50 

21. Additional Eemarks on Judgments and Inferences 52 

22. Summary 55 



II. — The Sphere of Conation. 

23. Explanation of the Term Conation 58 

24. The Primitive Forces are Conative in their JSature 59 

25. Quantitative Eelation between the External Stimuli and the Primitive 

Forces , 61 

26. Mental Modifications Originating in Pleasurable Stimulations Eesult in 

Desires 64 

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G CONTENTS. 

Page 

27. How Far the Other Modes of Stimulation are Capable of Producing De- 

sires 65 

28. The Act of Desiring is at the Same Time an Act of Conceiving — Two 

Different Forms of Reproduction of Pleasurable Modifications ... 67 

29. Similar Desires Coalesce. — Inclination, Propensity, Passion 68 

30. Influence of the Qualities of the Primitive Forces Upon the Formation of 

Desires 69 

31. External Stimuli and Primitive Forces as Mobile Elements 70 

32. Office and Use of the Mobile Elements 73 

33. Strong and Weak Modifications 76 

34. Repugnancies, Aversion, Repulsion, Resistance 78 

35. Repugnancies are Frequently Attended with Pain, and are then More 

Violent than Usual — Painful Emotions 81 

36. Similar Aversions Coalesce 82 

37. The Influence of the Qualities of the Primitive Forces upon the Forma- 

tion of Aversions 83 

38. Good and Evil 84 

39. Unlike Mental Modifications Unite into Groups and Series 87 

40. Some Important Series. — Cause and Effect. — End and Means 91 

41. To Wish and to Will 94 

42. Similar Volitions Coalesce. — Action 95 

43. The W T ill of Man 97 

44. Summary 99 

III. — The Emotional Sphere, or Sphere of the Feelings. 

45. During our Waking State there are Always Two or More Mental Modifi- 

cations, either Simultaneously or Successively Excited into Conscious- 
ness 102 

46. All Mental Modifications Differ More or Less from Each Other .... 103 

47. When Two or More Mental Modifications are Present Together in Con- 

sciousness, we Immediately Become Conscious of Their Difference. — 

Feelings 105 

48. Factors of Feelings, 106 

49. Extent of the Feelings. — Their Freshness or Vividness 109 

50. The Same Mental Process may be Conception, Desire and Feeling at the 

Same Time Ill 

51. Feelings of Pleasure and Pain — Difference between Sensation, Feeling 

and Perception 112 

52. The Same Stimulation Does not Always Cause the Same Feeling . . . 116 

53. Feelings of the Agreeable, of the Beautiful and the Sublime. — Their 

Proximate Factors 118 

54. The Remote Factors of the ^Esthetic Feelings 120 

55. Feelings of Strength of the Several Mental Modifications 125 

56. Feelings of Clearness, Indistinctness and Obscurity of Conceptions . . 126 

57. Valuation — Estimation of Worth 128 

58. Gradation of Good and Evil 130 



CONTENTS. 7 

Page 

59. The Gradation of Good and Evil is the Same in all Human Beings, 

Because that Gradation is Conditioned by the Inborn Nature of the 

Primitive Forces. — True Valuation 132 

60. Apparent Contradictions. — False Valuation 135 

61. The Feeling of Strength in Desires and Aversions 137 

62. Immorality. — Moral Rudeness 137 

63. Maliciousness, Wickedness 140 

64. The Feeling of Duty.— Conscience 143 

65. Freedom of "Will and Accountability 147 

66. Feelings of Similar Character Increase their Effect when Co-existing in 

Consciousness 156 

67. Dissimilar Feelings when Co-existing in Consciousness Restrain Them- 

selves in their Effect 157 

68. Concluding Remarks 158 

69. Summary . 161 

IV. — Physiological Psychology. 

70. Sensibility and Irritability 165 

71. The Nervous System 168 

72. The Sympathetic Nervous System 171 

73. General Sensibility, or Common or General Sense of Feeling 174 

74. The Muscular Sense and the Sense of Touch . . 177 

75. The Sense of Taste and the Sense of Smell 179 

76. The Sense of Hearing 182 

77. The Sense of Sight 183 

78. Stimuli, Excitants, or External Stimuli 184 

79. The Sensory Nerve-Centres 187 

80. The Sensory Faculties 190 

81. The Bapidity of Sensorial Action 197 

82. The Acuteness or Sensitiveness of the Primitive Foices 198 

83. The Betentive Power of the Sensorial Forces 200 

84. Conscious Development 204 

85. Various Degrees of Clearness in Conscious Development 206 

86. The Efferent Nerves 211 

87. The W r hite Substance 213 

88. Connection between the Gray and W T hite Substance of the Spinal Axis . 215 

89. Function of the Spinal Cord. — Reflex Actioa 218 

90. Volitions 227 

91. The Feelings 233 

92. Dr. L. S. Beale's Protoplasm 237 

93. The Results of Microscopical and Psychological Investigations Com- 

pared. — Living and Dead ... 243 

94. Beale on the Structure and Action of the Nervous Apparatus 247 

95. Psychological Application 252 



8 CONTENTS. 

Page 

V.— -Complementary Enquiries, 

96. On the Method of the Study of Psychology 255 

97. Consciousness aa the Opposite of Consciousness not yet Existing . . . 265 

98. Consciousness as the Opposite of Unconscious Mental Modifications. — 

Reproduction 268 

99. Direction in which the Current of Excitation (Reproduction) Proceeds 271 

100. Attention.— Tact.— Productive Activity 277 

101. The Laws of Association 281 

102. Memory, Recollection, Imagination ( l< Einbildungsvorstellungen") . . 284 

103. Complete or Partial Quiescence in the Soul — Sleep, Dreams .... 294 

104. Consciousness of Psychological Piocesses which Depends on Special 

Concepts. — Internal Senses, Inner Perception, Self-Consciousness . . 309 

105. On the Ego 315 

106. Reason and Rationality, or Capacity for Reason 319 

107. Instinct 323 

108. Varied Combinations of the Qualities of the Primitive Forces. — Tem- 

peraments 340 

109. Force and Matter 343 

110. Soul and Body 349 

111. Generation of Fresh Primitive Forces 362 

112. Final and Necessary Separation of Soul from Body — Death. — Contin- 

uance of the Soul after Death 370 

VI. — Occult Phenomena. 

113. Sensitivity 380 

114. Muscle-reading, Mind-reading, Thought-transference 388 

115. Mesmerism, Animal Magnetism, Tellurism, Hypnotism, Statuvolism . 401 

116. Theories Explaining the Mesmeric State 423 

117. Psychological Considerations of the Mesmeric State 428 

118. Consciousness during the Mesmeric State 443 

119. Hallucinations — Delusions 467 

120. Rapport between the Operator and the Subject 477 

121. Somnambulism 481 

122. Prophecies, Second Sight and Retrospection 498 

123. Psychic Action at a Distance; Telepathy, Telergy, the Double, Appa- 

ritions 508 

124. Phantasms of the Dead. — Haunted Houses 525 

/ 125. Spiritualistic Phenomena 531 



PART I. 

THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 



1. The Senses of Man. 



Light, if it enters the eye, either coming from luminous 
bodies or reflected from different objects (of various shades 
and colors, figures, extension and distance), excites the sense 
of sight. 

Sound of all kinds — the product of the action of various 
agents upon the surrounding air, by which the air is thrown 
into a state of vibration, melodious or otherwise — acts upon 
the sense of hearing. 

Externality — extension, form, hardness, softness, roughness, 
smoothness, etc., of objects which may come within our reach 
are appreciated by the sense of touch. 

Flavors — those peculiar exhalations which have as yet 
escaped chemical analysis, and which are as diverse in char- 
acter as are the different colors or the different sounds — by 
that of smell. 

Savors — those impressions which substances make upon the 
tongue by virtue of their sapidity, and whose variety is mul- 
titudinous — by that of taste. 

These different faculties are called senses; and because each 
sense is confined to a particular organ — as sight to the 
eyes, hearing to the ears, touch especially to the fingers' 
points, smell to the nose and taste to the tongue — they are 
called organic or fixed senses. We receive, moreover, still other 
2 (9) 



10 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MINI). 

impressions. The coolness or warmth of the atmosphere, its 
sultriness, dampness or dryness, the irritation of various things 
when applied to the external skin, we can feel. All these im- 
pressions seem to be related to tactual sensations, and may be 
considered as a continuation of the sense of touch. 

Very closely allied to the tactual sense also are the sensa- 
tions we obtain from the exercise of our muscles, and by 
which we become cognizant, not only of the weight and 
resistance of external bodies, but also learn to exactly estimate 
the degree of contraction necessary for any of our bodily mo- 
tions. A long-continued use of the muscles produces the sen- 
sation of fatigue or weariness. All these sensations we ascribe 
to the action of the muscular sense. 

Hunger, thirst, satiety, fulness, emptiness, pain, colic, are 
utterances of the states of the digestive apparatus and abdomi- 
nal viscera. Further, the sensations which originate in the 
several conditions of the air-passages, of the circulatory appa- 
ratus and of the sexual sphere, announce the regularity or 
irregularity with which the functiones vitales of the organism 
are going on. We may call the faculties in which these sen- 
sations originate the vital senses. Their bodily organs are the 
s}'stem of widely-diffused sentient cranio-spinal nerves and the 
sympathetic system. 

A more detailed consideration of the senses is given in the 
physiological part of this work. 

2. Causes and Conditions of Seeing, Hearing, etc. 

A dead man can neither see, hear, touch, smell, taste, nor 
feel, because he is a body without a soul. 

But in life we also fail to exercise these faculties when we 
are asleep, or in a state of syncope. Some lunatics do not 
heed the pricking of needles, or the application of red-hot 
iron to their bodies; they do not hear the report of a pistol 
shot off close to their ears; they are entirely unaffected by 
the strongest odors, or the severest cold, although their sen- 
sory organs appear to be in perfect health. Facts similar to 
these, although less striking, are frequently met with in nor- 



CAUSES AND CONDITIONS OF SEEING, HEARING, ETC. 11 

mal states of life. Many a soldier, wounded in the heat of 
battle, has been unconscious of it until the fight was over. The 
card-player is sometimes so deeply engaged in the game that 
he observes nothing transpiring about him. We are some- 
times so intently absorbed in our thoughts, or in the pur- 
suit of some object, that pickpockets find it an easy task 
to steal our purse; and we may hear the most interesting 
discourse without giving sufficient heed to it to recall a single 
idea it may contain. We may read a whole page without 
fixing in the mind a single idea there stated. In order, there- 
fore, to perceive external impressions, it is not only necessary 
that there be a soul, but that the soul shall also be in a fit 
condition to receive external impressions. Hence, we conclude 
that the first cause for the exercise of our senses lies in the 
soul, because a corpse neither sees nor hears ; nor are the 
impression-receiving functions ever exercised to their full ex- 
tent when the soul is pre-occupied by something else and does 
not or cannot receive present external impressions. The exer- 
cise of the senses is, therefore, an activity of the soul. It is 
the soul that sees; it is the soul that hears, etc. Still, so long 
as the soul is united to the body, and through that body with 
the exterior world, we may naturally suppose that the soul's 
functions stand in a conditional relation to the body as well 
as to the things without. In this respect experience teaches, 
that if a person's eyes (or optic nerves, or the portions of 
brain where these nerves originate) are destroyed, that per- 
son cannot see. 

The same is true of all the other senses. The exercise of the 
normal functions of the soul to see, hear, touch, taste and 
smell, requires sound bodily organs as necessary conditions, by 
which alone such actions can be performed. Similarly the 
artist needs a piano, a violin or other instrument, in order 
to exhibit his skill. 

Concerning the conditions which lie in the external world, 
Abercrombie remarks : " We see not without the presence 
both of light and a body reflecting it; and if we could sup- 
pose light to be annihilated, though the eye were to retain 
its perfect condition, sight would be extinguished." Nay, I 



12 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

may add, the eyes would gradually shrink to mere rudi- 
mentary organs, as the well-known blind fishes of the great 
Kentucky Cave clearly demonstrate. Analogous remarks 
are applicable to sound, flavor, savor and tactile qualities; 
their absence would at once render futile all efforts of the best 
faculties to receive impressions concerning them, even though 
the soul be provided with perfect receiving organs. Another 
condition necessary for the proper exercise of the normal func- 
tions of the soul of seeing, hearing, etc., is, therefore, that the 
things without should be capable of acting, and actually should act, 
upon the senses. 

3. Innate or Primitive Forces and External Stimuli. 

So soon as it is born, a child, provided its sense organs are 
sound, can see, hear, etc., at once, but it is unconscious of 
doing so. The exercise of these faculties is the first utterance 
of its mental nature. Father, mother, sisters and brothers it 
knows not. Still less is it capable of speaking, thinking or 
judging. In short, we observe no sign of intellectual powers, 
representative or reflective, in the child; they have all yet to 
be developed. But the ability to see, to hear, to taste, etc., 
is observable from birth. Hence, we may call them the 
innate faculties of man — the primitive or original forces of the soul — 
out of which, as we shall see, all further capabilities gradually 
evolve, as the tree develops out of the seed. These primitive 
forces, however, would be of no avail if there were no external 
things that could affect them (2). In order to see, there must 
be light, and things reflecting it; in order to hear, there must 
be an atmosphere, and things causing it to vibrate, etc. All 
the influences of external things on the child, necessary for 
seeing, hearing, etc., we call stimuli; and we may therefore say 
for seeing, hearing, touching, tasting, smelling and feeling 
there are required: 

1. Primitive forces of the soul, and 

2. Stimuli of the external world. 

The external stimuli act upon the primitive forces, so long 
as we are in a normal condition, invariably through the 
medium of healthy sensory organs. 



union between primitive forces and stimuli. 13 

4. Union between Primitive Forces and Stimuli. 

If we hold an object before a young child, it turns its eyes 
toward it. Perhaps it attempts to seize it with its little hands 
in order to touch it, and possibly brings the thing into contact 
with its mouth before it is entirely satisfied. "We observe an 
object far off, but too distant to recognize it. We then make an 
effort to catch even the faintest glimpse of it. Imagine the 
crew of a wreck, how their eyes seek for land or an approaching 
vessel. During the night we hear a noise, but it is not dis- 
tinct. Hark! what is it? Is not our faculty of hearing all 
on the alert to catch the sound ? In short, the primitive forces 
are not merely passively impressed by the external stimuli, but they 
tend toward them, receive them actively, because the primitive 
forces are soul and life themselves. 

We may either seek to find an object, or the object may strike 
our eyes casually. In either case, so soon as the stimuli of sight 
emanating from that body come in contact with our forces 
of sight, that moment we see that body. In the same way 
we hear a bird, if his song reaches our ears. In other 
words, the stimuli of hearing (the sounds which emanate 
from the bird) come in contact with our primitive forces of 
hearing, and are received by them. A similar process takes 
place when we touch, smell, taste or feel. In all instances 
stimuli must come in contact with corresponding primitive 
forces, and must be received by them. The moment this 
takes place we either see, hear, touch, smell, taste or feel. 

There is a wide field for speculation to determine how this 
may happen, or, in other words, how matter and mind can 
form a union. Indeed this field has been ploughed in- 
dustriously by hundreds of philosophers, from Plato and 
Aristotle down to Reid and Brown. It is interesting to read 
the accounts of these labors, as given by Sir William Hamil- 
ton in his Lectures on Metaphysics and Logic, Vol. I, from 
page 279 to 396. I shall at present confine myself to the 
statement of the simple fact which consciousness teaches the 
unbiased observer, viz. : We see, hear, touch, smell, taste or feel 
ichenever our primitive forces are acted upon by corresponding 
stimuli. 



14 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

For seeing, hearing, etc., we may use the general term of sens- 
ing or perceiving; hence the proposition would be this : The 
union of primitive forces with corresponding stimuli results in sen- 
sations or perceptions. The difference between sensation and 
perception will be explained further on. 

As this process goes on continually under the above-named 
normal conditions, we may state the following proposition as 
the. first fundamental process for all mental development, 
namely : In the human soul originate sensations and perceptions 
in consequence of impressions or stimuli from the external world 
upon the primitive forces of the soul. Winslow expresses this 
idea as follows on page 108 : " Sensations are effects, in the pro- 
duction of which are causes without exciting the organs and 
the mind, an intelligent agent, acting in connection with the 
organ at the same time. The united action of both the organ 
and the mind is essential to sensation. The organ, then, is the 
mutual instrument of mind and matter — the point at which the 
two worlds meet. Whatever operates upon the organ from 
without is the occasional cause of sensation ; the organ is the 
instrumental cause ; the mind is both the agent and the subjective 
cause of it." 

When we speak of primitive forces of the soul, we do not 
mean to imply that they are something separate from the 
soul, a something possessed or owned by it, but they constitute 
the very essence or being of which the soul consists at birth. 
Just as the body of man, animal, or plant, is evolved from 
living matter or bioplasm (as Dr. Lionel S. Beale has proved 
microscopically, in his work, " The Protoplasm," to which I 
can here merely refer), so the primitive forces of the soul are 
the spiritual substances out of which all mental modifications 
gradually, and in consequence of corresponding stimuli, de- 
velop. And it may as well be stated now that each sense consists 
of innumerable single primitive forces ; that the so-called faculty 
of sight, hearing, tasting, etc., is not a one-power, except if con- 
sidered in abstracto, but that each sensory faculty consists of 
separate single forces, which are severally modified by the 
various stimuli acting upon them. These propositions, how- 
ever, will become clearer as we progress in our investigations. 



ACUTENESS OR SENSITIVENESS OF THE PRIMITIVE FORCES. 15 
5. ACUTENESS OR SENSITIVENESS OF THE PRIMITIVE FORCES. 

The human senses are endowed with quite different degrees 
of acuteness. Some persons, for example, are able to detect 
the smallest differences in shades and other visible qualities 
of objects, which others do not perceive. Again, some 
can perceive the slightest variations of sound. As a familiar 
example may be cited the so-called musical ear, which 
perceives any deviation from clearness and purity in a 
succession of tones, which an unmusical ear does not detect. 
There are remarkable instances on record of the acuteness of 
the sense of touch, by which blind men are able to distinguish 
pieces of coin, and even detect counterfeits, etc., showing a 
power of minute discrimination in the tactual faculties, to 
which those who can see rarely, if ever, attain. 

" A dealer in wines said he had handled more than ten thou- 
sand different qualities, each of w T hich had an odor peculiar to 
itself. A person of a very discriminating smell said that he 
had never found two roses, even on the same bush, of precisely 
the same odor." ( Winsloiv's Elements of Intellectual Philosophy, 
p. 82.) How many others say all wines and all roses smell 
alike. " It is somewhere said of a celebrated cook, who 
had been in service fifty years, and who had prepared on an 
average fifty dishes a day, that he never made two dishes of 
precisely the same flavor." (Winslow, p. 85.) How many can 
be found who can scarcely distinguish beef from mutton if 
they can not see the meat. 

Some persons are exceedingly sensitive to any change in the 
atmosphere changes, which others do not mind. 

The same variety of acuteness is also exhibited in the senses 
of different animals. We observe an extraordinary degree of 
keenness of smell in dogs, of sight in chickens, of touch in 
spiders, etc. All this leads us to the conclusion that the 
primitive forces are not alike acute in all persons, but vary 
greatly as to the degree with which they are apt to be affected 
by even the minutest, or only by coarser stimuli. If we 
carry our investigations further, we observe that this quality is 
not equally distributed through all the different classes of 



16 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

primitive forces in one and the same person. He who is en- 
dowed with great acuteness of sight may, but need not neces- 
sarily, possess a like amount of acuteness of hearing, etc. On 
the contrary, we observe that each class of primitive forces has 
its own degree of acuteness. Any degree in the one may be 
associated with any degree in either of the other classes of 
primitive forces. It follows thus that among millions of human 
beings no two can be found exactly alike as regards the 
sensitiveness of all their primitive forces. This acuteness 
or sensitiveness is, therefore, a quality with which the different 
classes of primitive forces are endowed in varying degrees, 
each class representing its own quality by a greater or less de- 
gree of aptness in becoming affected by, or capacity to appre- 
hend, a given amount of stimuli. 

It may even here be surmised that the quality of the primi- 
tive forces must have an important bearing upon the whole 
future mental development of the individual, inasmuch as a 
higher degree of acuteness must necessarily result in fresher 
and fuller sensations and perceptions than a lower one. 

6. Vestiges— Mental Latencies. 

Suppose we see a plant for the first time. As always 
when we see, our primitive forces of sight are acted upon by 
the stimuli of light which emanate from that plant. After a 
while the plant is carried away, and we may forget all about 
it. Next day some one asks us whether we have seen the 
plant, and at once it stands before our mind, perhaps with all 
the peculiar features of its leaves, flowers, etc., precisely as we 
saw it. Another, who did not see the plant, knows nothing 
about it. The same result is obtained when we try the ex- 
periment with any of the other senses ; for we can likewise 
recollect what we have heard, touched, smelled, tasted, or 
felt, but we cannot recollect or have a mental picture of a thing 
of which we had not previously obtained a sensation or per- 
ception. It is clear, therefore, that the act of seeing, hearing, 
etc., is not without lasting effects upon the primitive forces. 
By the action of stimuli (4) the primitive forces become per- 



VESTIGES — MENTAL LATENCIES. 17 

manently modified in an exact correspondence to the external 
stimuli, acting upon them. The primitive forces continue to 
remain thus specifically developed (a development they did 
not previously possess). In consequence of this fact alone is 
it possible to recall things long after they themselves may have 
perished, and sometimes almost as vividly as though they were 
still acting upon our senses. Any act of perceiving, then, causes a 
lasting effect, an objective development of the percipient primitive 
forces. 

This is an every-day observation which needs no further 
confirmation. What I have to say is, that modifications of the 
primitive forces, as they originate in the act of perceiving, do 
not remain conscious, but become unconscious (we forget them), 
and remain in this state until they are roused again into a state 
of consciousness. We then recollect them. (Compare 12 and 13 ) 

"We are conscious of certain cognitions as acquired, and 
we are conscious of these cognitions as resuscitated. That 
in the interval, when out of consciousness, these cognitions 
continue to subsist in the mind, is certainly an hypothesis, 
because whatever is out of consciousness can only be assumed; 
but it is an hypothesis which we are not only warranted, but 
necessitated by the phenomena, to establish." (Hamilton, p. 
414.) They are mental developments in a latent state, which 
Beneke calls "Spuren," i. e. vestiges, and Webster defines ves- 
tiges as "the remains or marks of anything left, when the 
thing itself no longer exists." In the original the word vestige 
meant a material impression upon matter. But, applying 
this term to mental developments, we enlarge its meaning, and 
designate by it specific modifications of the primitive forces by the 
action of external stimuli upon them, which modifications continue 
to exist as such in a latent state. 

Sir Wm. Hamilton broaches this subject in Lectures xviii. 
et seq. He says: "Whether the mind exerts energies, and is 
the subject of modifications, of neither of which it is conscious, 
is the most general expression of a problem which has 
hardly been mentioned, far less mooted, in this country ; and 
when it has attracted a passing notice, the supposition of an 
unconscious action or passion of the mind has been treated as 



18 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

something either unintelligible or absurd. In Germany, on 
the contrary, it has not only been canvassed, but the alter- 
native, which philosophers of this country have lightly con- 
sidered as ridiculous, has been gravely established as a con- 
clusion which the phenomena not only warrant but enforce." 
He then goes on to prove the fact " that the mind may, and 
does, contain far more latent furniture than consciousness 
informs us it possesses," and he calls the hidden riches of our 
mind " latent agencies, modifications of which we are unconscious, 
— mental latencies" I may, in my future explanations, make 
use of any of these expressions, with the distinct understanding 
that I mean by the use of them objectively developed 'primitive 
forces in their unconscious existence, extending thus the mean- 
ing of vestiges from a term simply implying mere modifica- 
tions of the primitive forces by the action of external stimuli, to 
all and any modifications which primitive forces in tjie course 
of mental development may undergo. "We shall, by further 
investigation, find that any kind of mental development, no 
matter from what cause or in w T hat manner originating, if 
once originated in a sufficient degree of perfection, continues 
to exist as a vestige or mental latency ; for "it is a universal law 
of nature, that every effect endures as long as it is not modified 
or opposed by any other effect." {Hamilton, p. 416.) To prove 
this assertion there is much evidence showing that the mind 
frequently contains whole systems of knowledge, which 
knowledge (though w T e are in our normal state, has faded into 
absolute oblivion) may, in certain abnormal states — such 
as madness, febrile delirium, somnambulism, catalepsy, etc. — 
flash out into luminous consciousness, and even throw into the 
shade of unconsciousness those other systems by which they 
had, for a long period, been eclipsed and even extinguished. 
For example, " there are cases in which the extinct memory of 
whole languages was suddenly restored." {Hamilton, 6.) Such 
a case is that of the Comtesse de Laval, who had been nursed 
during her infancy in the Province of Brittany. When 
grown up, during an indisposition, she commenced to talk in 
her sleep in the Breton idiom; yet, when it was repeated to her 
in her waking hours, she did not understand a single syllable 



RETENTIVENESS OF THE PRIMITIVE FORCES — MEMORY. 19 

of what she had uttered in her sleep. "And what is still more 
remarkable, there are cases in which the faculty was exhibited 
of accurately repeating, in known or unknown tongues, pas- 
sages which were never within the grasp of conscious memory 
in the normal state." (Hamilton.) Such a case is that reported 
by Coleridge of a young woman, who, during an attack of 
nervous fever, talked incessantly in Latin, Greek and He- 
brew, in very pompous tones and with most distinct enun- 
ciation. This woman could neither read nor write, but dur- 
ing her childhood she had been in the house of a pastor, whose 
habit for years it was to walk up and down a passage of his 
house, into which the kitchen door opened, and read to 
himself in a loud voice out of his favorite books. These 
declamations had been listened to by the child in the kitchen, 
and produced vestiges which, under the extraordinary stimulus 
of a nervous fever, rose into consciousness, while under ordinary 
circumstances they never so rose. (Hamilton, p. 238, etc.) A 
number of other well-authenticated cases, having a similar 
bearing, are related by Abercrombie in his Inquiries Concerning 
the Intellectual Powers, p. Ill, and at 220 et seq. 

7. Ketentiveness of the Primitive Forces — Memory. 

A superficial observation will convince us that the vestiges 
produced in different persons by the same external stimuli 
are not all of a like nature. Suppose twenty persons, alike 
interested in the subject, listen to one and the same lecture, or 
look at one and the same object, will the effect on each one be 
the same? We can easily ascertain by inquiring next day what 
the several persons know about the subject. Some, no doubt ; 
will be able to give a very accurate account, while others can- 
not. Every teacher knows it to be a fact that certain pupils 
— and not always the most industrious — generally know their 
lessons better than others. How is this ? 

Vestiges are objectively developed primitive forces in their 
latent state. In 5 we have seen that the different classes of 
primitive forces exhibit different degrees of acuteness. Such 
forces as are endowed with a great degree of acuteness will 



20 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

surely be modelled in finer shades and necessarily produce 
fresher and fuller perceptions, and consequently fresher and 
fuller vestiges of such perceptions; therefore, persons who pos- 
sess more acute forces of seeing or hearing than others, will 
thereby be enabled to relate more accurately what they have 
seen or heard. But acuteness alone will not suffice. What 
advantage is it to pour water into a sieve plentifully and con- 
tinually ? Although the sieve receives the water, it does not 
keep it. In like manner, what would it amount to if I were 
in possession of the most acute forces, receiving thereby the 
minutest impressions, but did not retain them ? In the first 
place, I would not succeed in gathering water; and, applying 
the illustration to the imperfect reception and retention of im- 
pressions, I would never be able to reproduce sensations. Only 
by the duration of that definite change which the primitive 
forces undergo by the action of external stimuli, vestiges 
originate ; and the more perfectly this specific development 
endures, the more perfect will be the vestiges, and conse- 
quently the clearer will be the recollection of them. A higher 
or lower degree of acuteness modifies the recollections as to 
their accuracy, but clearness of recollection depends upon the 
degree of preservation in which the formed modifications 
endure. Hence, it is not unusual to meet persons who know 
a little of everything, but nothing thoroughly; while others 
have a small circle of knowledge, characterized by great clear- 
ness. 

Now, then, if experience teaches that some persons can and 
do recollect what they have seen and heard better than others, 
it follows that the modifications caused by stimuli endure in dif- 
ferent persons in different degrees of perfection ; and that, there- 
fore, the primitive forces of man differ in a second quality, viz.: 
In the energy or tenacity with which they continue to exist more or 
less perfectly in that definite change which they have undergone by 
the action of external stimuli upon them. 

In addition I might remark that, in order to procure a 
distinct modification, the stimuli should act fully and steadily 
upon the recipient forces ; and it is furthermore obvious 
that, to procure a thorough cognition of an extensive ob- 



GRADATION OF THE PRIMITIVE FORCES. 21 

ject, the different stimuli which emanate from the several 
parts of that body must act severally upon corresponding 
primitive forces, so that the recollection of such an object — 
a house, for example — consists, not of a single vestige, but of 
the several vestiges which have been produced by the action 
of the different stimuli emanating from the several parts of 
the house. 

In this quality of the primitive forces exists the founda- 
tion of what in ordinary language is understood by the terms 
good or bad, and long or short memory. It is good, or long, when 
the primitive forces maintain in great perfection that state of 
specific development which they have obtained by the action 
of stimuli, so that we afterwards can recall to mind what we 
have perceived almost as clearly as though it were present 
to our senses. It is bad, or short, when the modified primitive 
forces do not remain in such perfection ; when, therefore, they 
lack energy or retentive power. This state, of course, gives 
only faint vestiges, and their representation in recollection 
must be equally faint, if no new addition of the same stimuli 
by which they were produced be operative. 

We see, therefore, that what in common language is called 
memory, is not a special faculty outside the primitive forces of 
man, but that memory consists solely in the quality possessed 
by the primitive forces of continuing to persist more or less 
permanently in that specific development which has been 
wrought in them by the action of external stimuli. 

As vestiges are produced, however, from all conscious acts 
in the soul, memory is not confined to external impressions 
alone. (Compare 75.) 

8. Gradation of the Primitive Forces in regard to 
their retentiveness. 

" When we recollect an external object, I think we much 
more readily recall the visual conception than any other. I 
may examine a ball by touch, and obtain a knowledge of its 
form and magnitude; but when I think of it, the visual 
appearance presents itself most readily to my mind. Almost 



22 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

all the conceptions of figurative language are derived from 
sight."— Wayland, p. 69. 

" It has frequently happened that the most eminent musicians 
have been afflicted with deafness. It is delightful to observe 
that this infirmity only in a modified degree deprives them of 
their accustomed pleasure. They sit at an instrument, touch- 
ing the notes as usual, and become as much excited with their 
own conceptions as they were formerly by sounds." — Wayland, 
p. 55. 

"When we see a blind person read with his fingers, we must 
be convinced that he has as definite a conception of the forms 
of letters as we ourselves have by sight." — Wayland, p. 63. 

The cited cases prove that the three systems of primitive forces 
— sight, hearing and touch — form vestiges of great perfection; 
that they are, therefore, endowed with a high degree of energy. 

When a clock strikes, a child generally turns its head toward 
the sounding body to see it. When we listen to an orator^ 
we generally try to get in a position where we can also have 
a look at him. A strange word is better kept if we see it 
written, and the proverb says : " One eye is a better witness 
than two ears." 

The highest development of the sense of touch w T e find in 
those who are blind from birth. If, however, they become 
able to see, they rely upon the sense of sight principally, as 
do those who have enjoyed it from birth. 

It seems, therefore, that the forces of seeing yield the 
most perfect vestiges; that they possess retentiveness or 
energy in a higher degree than the others. This seems to 
be the norm. Still there may be persons in whom the hear- 
ing forces preponderate over those of sight in regard to 
energy, as indeed each system of forces is endowed with its 
own degree of acuteness as well as of energy (5). 

" After having smelled an odorous body, I know that I 
should be able to recognize that particular odor again. I can- 
not form a conception of the smell of a rose, but I know that 
I could, if it ivere present, immediately recognize it and dis- 
tinguish it from all other odors." — Wayland, p. 44. 

" I think that men generally have no distinct conception of 



GRADATION OF THE PRIMITIVE FORCES. 23 

an absent taste., but only a conviction that they should easily 
recognize it if it were again presented to them. This form of 
recollection may be so strong as to create a longing for a par- 
ticular flavor, but still there is no conception like that pro- 
duced by either sight or touch." — Wayland, p. 47. 

The same is true in regard to the general sense of feeling. No 
one is capable of recalling the sensation of chilliness so long as 
he feels warm, although every one would recognize it at once 
should he be attacked by a chill. There is evidently a 
great difference between the primitive forces of feeling and 
those of sight, hearing and touch. While sight, hearing 
and touch are capable of producing vestiges which, on be- 
ing recalled, appear about as clear as the identical impres- 
sions by which they were caused, we find that smell, taste, 
and the general sense of feeling are decidedly deficient in this 
particular. The vestiges produced in these systems are 
by far too imperfect to reproduce in themselves a clear 
recollection without a new addition of the stimuli by which 
they originated. They are, therefore, much inferior to the 
other senses. On this ground, in regard to energy, we may 
divide the senses into two classes — higher and lower. The 
higher comprise sight, hearing, and touch, because their forces 
are endowed with such a degree of retentiveness or energy as 
to produce vestiges which can be recalled in the mind with a 
degree of clearness that is almost equal to the original im- 
pression. All science, in fact, is based upon these senses. 
The lower comprise smell, taste, and the vital senses, because 
their objective development is not of so persistent a nature as 
is essential for a clear recollection without the addition of new 
stimuli. No one has ever succeeded, not even the great Lin- 
naeus, in classifying flowers, for instance, according to their 
smell and taste, because these forces do not yield products 
sufficiently clear and distinct for such a purpose. 

We thus must recognize a marked difference between the 
several systems of primitive forces in man — a. difference which 
manifests itself in a gradual diminution of retentiveness from 
sight and hearing down to the lower and vital senses. Indeed, 
it is this quality of the primitive forces which constitutes the 



24 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

specific difference between man and animals; for, although 
many species of animals possess the same systems of primitive 
forces as man, and some in even greater acuteness, none 
are endowed with a sufficient degree of energy to produce 
vestiges, which, without a repetition of corresponding stimuli, 
result in clear recollections. The highest development of 
animals may, perhaps, equal the lowest human develop- 
ment. Man may succeed by perseverance in drilling single 
animals to a certain degree of culture, but their whole kind 
remains specifically the same as it was thousands of years ago. 
The energy of the primitive forces is the basis for all higher 
mental development. 

9. Like Unites with Like and Similar with Similar. 

We have thus far seen that external stimuli act upon cor- 
responding primitive forces; that the product of such actions 
remains as vestiges, which are more perfect in proportion as the 
primitive forces are more retentive; that the greatest conserva- 
tive power belongs to the higher class of senses, sight, hearing, 
and touch; and that, therefore, these senses are the basis of all 
higher mental development. It remains, however, to go still 
further into detail, for this fact is not sufficient to explain 
the greater or lesser clearness of recollecting objects we have 
perceived by the same system of primitive forces. Every 
one knows that what we have seen or heard only once, cannot 
compare in clearness of recollection with what we have seen or 
heard many times, provided the acts of perceiving were alike per- 
fect. Only by repeated action of the same stimuli the little 
beginner gradually gains a knowledge of the A-B-Cs, and 
finally he learns to spell and read. There is the same ex- 
perience in the acquirement of all kinds of knowledge. In 
order to gain a clear recollection or knowledge of a thing 
we must have repeated perceptions of that thing. But, even 
then, what would it amount to if these several perceptions 
remained as so many several vestiges singly and uncom- 
bined ? Would not the one-hundredth leave us just where we 
w 7 ere when we made the first ? As this, however, is contrary 



LIKE UNITES WITH LIKE AND SIMILAR WITH SIMILAR. 25 

to all experience, we come to the necessary conclusion, inas- 
much as we gain clearer recollection or knowledge by repeated 
perception, that the several vestiges which originate from like per- 
ceptions all unite into one aggregate. This can be proved by 
thousands of facts. When I see the first violet in spring, it 
strikes me at once as an old acquaintance, the like of which I 
have seen hundreds of times before ; but if I should happen to 
see a flower which I never had seen before, it would appear 
to me as something new. In the first instance the new impres- 
sion associates with all the like vestiges previously obtained ; 
in the second the new flower finds no vestige of former like im- 
pressions. We observe the same fact if we watch the develop- 
ment of an infant. When born it receives external stimuli 
through all its senses, incongruously, just as they happen to 
come. We find it first learns to know its mother, because from 
her it receives the first and most numerous impressions, and 
in the same way it learns to know other objects, according to 
the number of impressions it receives from them. Order is 
thus at once established; for, no matter how indiscriminately 
external stimuli may act upon the child's senses — as in fact 
they do — they do not mix and mingle ad libitum, but unite 
strictly according to their similarity, and constitute in this way 
homogeneous aggregates, which are the more lucid and clear in 
proportion as their vestiges are more like and numerous. 

But closer observation teaches us still more. Not only what 
is perfectly alike unites with the like, but even that which is 
only similar. 

Almost every one, in walking the streets, has mistaken an en- 
tire stranger for an old acquaintance, because at first sight that 
person looked very similar to the other. It is of very frequent 
occurrence that children, before they have acquired percep- 
tions of what is identical, confound objects with what is merely 
similar. To them all things that fly are birds, even bats and 
butterflies. All grown persons who stand in a friendly rela- 
tion to their parents are uncles and aunts, etc. Even the 
every-day expressions, as, this looks, sounds, tastes, smells, 
etc., very much like or similar to that or another thing, prove 
that not only like and like, but also the similar, unites with the sim- 
3 



20 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

ilar. And as we shall find in the course of our investigations, 
that not only new impressions unite with vestiges of similar 
impressions previously acquired, but that likewise all other 
mental acts unite according to their similarity, we may state 
as a second fundamental process : In the human soul unite con- 
tinually the like with the like and the similar with the similar, pro- 
ducing in this way units of a more or less homogeneous com- 
pound. This process I shall call the attraction of like to like. 

10. Origin of Consciousness — Conception. 

No one has any recollection of his first year's existence. 
Gradually the child becomes cognizant of the things around 
it. When it is born, the only faculties the child exhibits are 
those of seeing, hearing, etc., and by their use gradually 
gains a knowledge or consciousness of certain things. On 
watching closely we observe that this consciousness of things 
grows clearer in proportion to the frequency with which the 
same things are made to act upon the senses, or, expressed in 
terms already used, in the ratio of the increase in the number 
of vestiges which the child acquires in accordance with the 
law of attraction of like to like. Only by the repeated action 
of similar stimuli upon corresponding primitive forces, or, 
what is the same, by the formation and union of many similar 
or like vestiges, the child gradually becomes conscious of the 
things around it. The same truth holds good in after-life. 
The most striking examples of this truth are offered by per- 
sons who, being blind from birth, have gained their sight in 
mature age by a successful operation. At first they knew 
nothing at all of what they saw. The most remarkable case 
of this kind is that which Cheselden relates in the Philosophi- 
cal Transactions for the year 1728. Mr. Cheselden says: 
"When he (the gentleman who had been blind from birth) 
first saw, he was so far from making any judgment about 
distances, that he thought all objects whatever touched his 
eyes (as he expressed it), as what he felt did his skin, and 
thought no objects so agreeable as those w T hich were smooth 
and regular, though he could form no judgment of theii*shape 



ORIGIN OF CONSCIOUSNESS — CONCEPTION. 27 

or guess what it was in any object that was pleasing to him. 
He knew not the shape of anything, nor any one thing from 
another, however different in shape or magnitude; but upon 
being told what things were, whose form he before knew from 
feeling, he would carefully observe, that he might know them again; 
but having too many objects to learn at once, he forgot many 
of them ; and (as he said) at first learned to know and again for- 
got a thousand things in a day. One particular only (though it 
may appear trifling) I will relate: Having often forgot which 
was the cat and which the dog, he was ashamed to ask, but 
catching the cat (which he knew by feeling) he was observed to 
look at her steadfastly, and then setting her down, said, " So, 
puss! I shall know you another time." We see thus that 
things which were known to him by the sense of touch and 
hearing, etc., he had no consciousness of when seeing them, 
until he had acquired by repeated acts of seeing a sufficient 
number of visual vestiges. It is then a matter of experience 
that we become conscious of external things only in the degree 
in which we have gained vestiges by repeated perceptions of 
them. Repeated actions of similar external stimuli upon corre- 
sponding primitive forces and their union into homogeneous 
aggregates are the necessary conditions for the production of 
conscious modifications in the sold. 

What, then, is the source of consciousness ? Is it the 
primitive forces? In themselves they are entirely uncon- 
scious. Is it the external stimuli ? They at no time produce 
consciousness except by their action upon primitive forces. 
Both, then, must be considered as taking part in the produc- 
tion of consciousness. Nevertheless, the deepest source must 
be attributed to the primitive forces, inasmuch as the same 
external stimuli act upon other things and never cause any- 
thing like consciousness, and different systems of primitive 
forces produce different degrees of clearness of recollection. 
The unconscious primitive forces possess an inherent ca- 
pacity of becoming conscious, which capacity becomes actual, 
so soon as they are modified by the influence of stimuli. 
We find the clearness of consciousness increase in the same 
ratio as similar perceptions are repeated, and it follows that the 



28 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

first vestige must possess a certain quantum of this conscious- 
ness, though as yet in an embryonic state. The same is 
true of all internal acts and developments, as shall hereafter 
be demonstrated. We may say, then, that the greater the num- 
ber of similar vestiges, the clearer will be the consciousness of the 
aggregate which originates in and from these several vestiges. 

This fact explains why repetition is indispensable in order 
to obtain any kind of knowledge. We must perform the same 
mental act over and over again, until at length we gain as 
many vestiges as are necessary to constitute sufficiently clear 
and conscious mental acts. The accumulation of vestiges is 
the necessary condition of all mental progress: Repetitio est 
mater studiorum. 

Whenever a sufficient number of similar vestiges have 
united for us to have a clear consciousness of the object from 
which the external stimuli were obtained — although the 
external object be no longer present — we say we have a con- 
ception of that object; or, we can conceive of it. This sense of 
the word conception has been introduced by Stewart, and means 
a re-calling or re-presentation of previous perceptions, and 
seems to have been universally adopted, although Hamilton 
opposes it strong^ in his Lectures on Metaphysics, p. 452. 
Hamilton says: "This term ought to have been left to denote, 
what it previously did, and only properly could be applied to 
express the notions we have of classes of objects, in other 
words, what have been called our general ideas" I do not 
find, however, another word by which I can better express 
the German term Vorstellung and Vorstellen, which means to 
place before, and which Beneke applies to the conscious re-pres- 
entation of previously acquired vestiges, as described above. 

If we consider the influence which different degrees of acute- 
nessand energy of the primitive forces must exercise upon the 
formation of conceptions, we find that a higher degree of 
acuteness must procure more accurate and more finely- shaded 
conceptions; and a higher degree of energy must produce 
clearer and more lucidly conscious ones. Indeed the energy of 
the primitive forces is the actual cause of all consciousness; 
and we find, therefore, that the development of consciousness 






RELATION OF STIMULI TO THE PRIMITIVE FORCES. 29 

goes hand in hand with the degree of energy which the dif- 
ferent classes of primitive forces possess (8). This is the reason 
why our conceptions of objects of sight, hearing and touch are 
much clearer than those of smell, taste and feeling; and not 
(as Stewart suggests) " because visible things are complex, 
presenting a series of connected points of observation; thus 
being a result to which the association of ideas largely con- 
tributes." 

The energy of the primitive forces, then, is the origin of con- 
sciousness, and of that form of consciousness which is directly 
opposite to that state of the human soul in which it had no 
consciousness, because its primitive forces had not yet been 
modified by any external stimuli. We will consider con- 
sciousness in its transient state (12), and in its form as self- 
perception, at a later occasion. 

11. Quantitative Relation of Stimuli to the Primitive 

Forces. 

Perceptions, and consequently their re-presentation into con- 
sciousness as conceptions, may be either clear and distinct, or 
obscure and indistinct, for reasons which have been detailed 
in the foregoing. I have yet to mention another factor, which 
has likewise an important bearing in this matter, and that is 
the quantum of external stimuli in relation to the percipient 
forces. If, for example, I see an object in obscure light, or hear a 
sound which is faint, or smell an odor that is indistinct, I shall 
not gain a clear perception of the object, the sound or the odor. 
The quantum of external stimuli offered is too small, too 
scanty, for the recipient forces. The forces are not properly filled 
out by them, their capacity is not sufficiently engaged, and 
such a process always occasions a feeling of non-satisfaction. 

The case is entirely different if I see the same object in full 
daylight, hear the same sound with a proper degree of loud- 
ness, smell the same odor in all its vigor. I will gain 
a clear perception of such an object, because the quantum 
of external stimuli offered is just adapted to the recipient 
forces; the forces are properly filled out by them; their ca- 



30 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

pacity is fully engaged ; and in all such cases we have a feeling 
of satisfaction. There are still other quantitative relations 
of external stimuli to the primitive forces, of which I shall 
speak in 25. For our present purpose it is sufficient to state 
the above-mentioned relations. We learn that in order to gain 
a clear perception it is necessary that the quantum of external stim- 
uli should be adequate to the capacity of the recipient forces. Too 
small a quantum produces, at best, only obscure and indis- 
tinct modifications. 

Summing up the facts detailed in the foregoing para- 
graphs, showing the conditions necessary for the development 
of clear perceptions and consequently clear conceptions 
(or, in other words, of clear conscious acts in the human 
mind), we find those facts resolvable into the following propo- 
sitions : 

1. The primitive forces must be endowed with a sufficient degree of 
energy to maintain the development they have acquired from the 
stimuli received (7). 

2. Similar impressions must unite with similar already-formed 
vestiges to constitute a homogeneous aggregate (9, 10) ; and, 

3. The stimuli must be of a sufficient quantum in relation to the 
recipient forces. 

12. Perpetual Alternation between Consciousness and 

Unconsciousness. 

Each moment of our lives bears testimony to the fact 
that we are conscious of but a limited and comparatively 
small number of acquired mental modifications at one time ; 
while the others, how great soever our possessions, rest in 
perfect unconsciousness. For example, while we are pon- 
dering over the present subject, the conceptions and ideas 
appertaining to it fall readily into consciousness ; but we are 
entirely unconscious of what may have agitated our mind yes- 
terday; and what is now present in our thoughts may yield 
the next moment to some other ideas. In short, we observe a 
constant appearance and disappearance of mental modifications. 
An attentive reader will observe that we are now viewing 



CONSCIOUSNESS AND UNCONSCIOUSNESS. 31 

consciousness from a new standpoint. The question is no 
longer how does consciousness originate, but how does this 
constant alternation or change between consciousness and un- 
consciousness come to pass ? In this sense, therefore, con- 
sciousness signifies merely a condition of mental aggregates 
already acquired, a condition in which these aggregates either 
appear as conscious modifications or disappear into latency or 
delitescence. 

The question, therefore, is : By what means do vestiges 
assume a conscious condition ; and, on the other hand, by 
what means do conscious modifications retire into delites- 
cence ? The old answer to these questions is : " Ideas awake 
and go to sleep," leaving us where we were before, because this 
answer does not tell why they awake, and why they go to sleep. 
It is a curious fact that these important questions have never 
been made problems ( before Beneke) ; and we find, there- 
fore, that the older psychologists do not make an attempt to 
solve them. Everybody seemed satisfied with this figurative 
answer. Beneke was the first who investigated the nature 
of consciousness and its varying states, and Hamilton makes 
at a later time an attempt to clear up these problems (Lect- 
ure xxx., p. 416). 

First question : By what means do vestiges assume a con- 
scious condition ? 

Consciousness originates out of repeated actions of similar 
external stimuli upon corresponding primitive forces. To the 
first vestige, which originates in consequence of the first modi- 
fication of primitive forces by the action of corresponding exter- 
nal stimuli, a second perception adds a new vestige. Every fol- 
lowing perception combines with the previously attained similar 
vestiges, and adds a new element of consciousness, until at 
last the aggregate becomes a clear, conscious, mental act. 
It follows, then, that each new stimulus, by acting upon 
a free primitive force and converting it into a specific modifi- 
cation, brings, at the same time, all the like vestiges previ- 
ously acquired into a similar state of excitation as they had 
during their original formation, and which the new perception 
now possesses. It is a parallel process to that of the string of 



32 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

a musical instrument, which, on being set vibrating, causes 
other strings to vibrate if they are of the same tension. 

Consciousness, then, in this sense is an excitation, a motion 
of the aggregated vestiges by new similar stimuli, which on 
account of their similarity impart their own motion to all of 
them. Of this process we are reminded every moment. A 
moment since, I was surely not thinking of a cart; but its 
rumbling on the street on passing by at once arouses in me 
the consciousness of it. If we see a thing we cannot help 
being conscious of it, and if it is an object which w T e never saw 
before, it at once strikes us as something new because its 
stimuli find no vestiges of a similar development to which 
they could impart their own specific motion. There is no 
doubt that resuscitation into consciousness is caused by the 
action of fresh stimuli. As the}'' excite their similar vestiges 
they cause an excitation of the aggregate. This is one 
way, but not the only way, in which latent mental modifica- 
tions become resuscitated into consciousness. Compare 13. 

Second question : By what means do conscious modifications 
retire into delitescence ? 

We shall find, as is universally true, that there is no 
effect without a cause. Where there is motion, there must be 
moving elements; and if these elements cease to be, motion 
necessarily ceases. If, therefore, consciousness in its transient 
state consists in motion or excitation of aggregates already 
formed, it is clear that this motion must cease so soon as the 
exciting elements cease. The excitement leaves, and the 
aggregate, just aroused, becomes motionless, id est, unconscious. 

13. Second Manner in which Consciousness is resuscitated 
and again ceases to be consciousness. 

(a) I may sit alone in darkness and silence and yet be full 
of ideas crowding one upon another. Without wishing it, per- 
haps against my will, the whole past of my life may unfold 
like a panorama before my internal vision, or I may hear dear 
voices, melodies, or what else may happen to be recollected, 
or I may be busily engaged in thoughts of the future, full of 



SECOND MANNER IN WHICH CONSCIOUSNESS IS RESUSCITATED. 33 

hope or fear, and all this without any external excitants or 
any intention of my own. 

(b) But I may also wish to remember things past, things 
seen or heard, etc., and they also, in a majority of cases, will 
represent themselves to my internal view. We are able, in 
most cases, to recollect what we wish to recollect, and all this 
without the presence of corresponding external stimuli. This 
clearly shows that latent modifications can be resuscitated 
into consciousness by something else than the external stimuli 
of which we spoke in the foregoing paragraph. What is it? 

If consciousness in- its transient state is excitation of formed 
aggregates, if excitation or motion cannot take place without 
moving elements, and if, as shown in the above instances, the 
excitants do not come from without, it follows that we must 
look for moving elements within the mind itself. We know 
of nothing here but (1) primitive forces (3) and (2) objectively 
developed primitive forces or vestiges (6). As vestiges are the 
objects to be moved, there remain for our consideration only 
primitive forces. 

The power of movement is invariably possessed by bio- 
plasm. The rootlets of the plant extend themselves into the 
soil because the living matter at their extremities moves 
onward from the point already reached. The tree grows 
upward against gravity by virtue of the same living power of 
bioplasm. In every bud portions of this living matter tend 
to move away from the spot where they were produced, and 
stretch upward or onward in advance. No tissue of any liv- 
ing animal could be formed unless the portions of bioplasm 
moved away from one another., Portions of the bioplasm 
move and place themselves beyond the point already gained. 
The above are vital movements. (Bioplasm, by Lionel S. 
Beale, p. 35). 

Of a still higher order than bodily bioplasm are the primi- 
tive forces of the soul. They possess this power of spontaneous 
mobility in a far superior degree. They are capable of flowing 
from one fixed modification to another, imparting their own 
motion to the same, and thus causing a renewed excitation of 
already-formed or fixed modifications . In other words, their 



34 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

action upon fixed modifications brings to consciousness what 
existed in a latent state, and their withdrawal lets the modi- 
fications back again into delitescence. 

However, the primitive forces which thus cause from within 
the resuscitation into consciousness of fixed mental modifica- 
tions are not all free primitive forces, untainted (if I may 
use this expression) by external stimuli. For experience 
teaches that external stimuli are constantly pouring through 
all the gateways of our sense organs upon the primitive forces 
without always causing a specific modification of the same, 
We may for hours hear the tick of a clock and not have any 
distinct perception of it. We may for hours sit surrounded by 
light and not notice it or the things about us in particular. 
These objects, however, make continual impressions upon 
our senses; for if the clock suddenly stops, or a cloud suddenly 
obscures the sky, we at once become conscious of the impres- 
sions occasioned by them. Thus our primitive forces do not 
all and always assume a definite form when they are acted 
upon by external stimuli; they are merely partially affected, 
"tainted," so to speak, in a general way, by the more general 
stimuli of light or sound, etc. They thus retain more or less 
their original character, although somewhat modified, and cor- 
respondingly to the nature of the external stimuli by which 
they have been acted upon. They stand between the fixed 
forms of perfect vestiges and the original forces. As such they 
partake of the properties of both. Not being developed in a 
permanent manner as perfect vestiges, they still retain their 
mobility, while on the other hand, having undergone a gene- 
ral, yet indefinite, undefined change, corresponding to the 
general character of the different classes of external stimuli, 
they also partake of the nature of external stimuli, and, being 
more or less similar to the modifications already formed, they 
flow to them and excite them into consciousness very much in 
the manner as external stimuli do. Thus we can easily under- 
stand why a lively conscious excitation (compare the series of 
instances given under a) may be going on without the pres- 
ence of external stimuli. This excitation is involuntary, for 
the partially changed primitive forces are more or less at- 






SECOND MANNER IN WHICH CONSCIOUSNESS IS RESUSCITATED. 35 

tracted by the more or less similar modifications already 
existing. 

It is different with the primitive forces yet unchanged by 
the influence of any external stimuli. They, possessing the 
inherent power of spontaneous mobility, being living soul 
themselves, are not merely attracted by fixed modifications, 
but move of themselves and constitute the basis of will- 
power, as will be shown hereafter. The excitation into 
consciousness by them is voluntary. Beside what has been 
stated under b), this may be exemplified by the following: I 
am deeply engaged in solving a problem, I will its solution, 
and I call up all the latent treasures of my mind, id est, I re- 
suscitate into consciousness whatever may in any way help 
the solution of the present problem. All external influences, 
I find, interrupt the flow of my thoughts. The less I am dis- 
turbed, the better I succeed. My activity, therefore, is entirely 
internal. Thus I work on for hours. Finally, the flow of 
thoughts becomes slower; I feel tired. The problem is not yet 
solved, but I fall asleep. Next morning, on awaking, I find 
my first thoughts turning to the object of yesterday's re- 
search. Again, with renewed vigor, I bring all the neces- 
sary items into consciousness, and in a short time, perhaps, 
succeed in finishing my task, showing that that which became 
exhausted after several hours of intense thinking yesterday, 
must have been replenished during the night's rest. This 
could not have been external stimuli, because I slept all night. 
It must have been those primitive forces by which I was 
enabled to excite into consciousness all the various ideas 
necessary for the successful handling of my problem. Thus 
we find that resuscitation of latent agencies into conscious- 
ness may be effected' by purely internal means, namely : 

1. By those primitive forces only generally modified by external 
stimuli, which retain their original mobile character, and 
having acquired greater or less similarity with formed ves- 
tiges, cause involuntary excitation into consciousness ; and, 

2. By primitive forces not at all objectively developed, 
w T hich originate during sleep, and, being of an active, living 
nature, correspond to the will, cause voluntary excitation into 
consciousness. 



36 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

Both these kinds of internal excitants may properly be 
called mobile elements, because they have not yet developed 
into fixed forms. They still possess the power of motion, and 
give an impulse to one or the other of the formed aggre- 
gates. We may also call them elements of consciousness, because 
they are the internal agents by which the latent modifications 
become agitated, id est, made conscious. 

Their action does not warrant an invariable certainty in 
making conscious what we want. 

Sometimes the greatest effort will not enable us to recall 
what we would like to remember, although there is no want 
of either kind of these elements. External stimuli, on the 
contrary, excite their similar vestiges into consciousness with 
unerring certainty, because they can impart their motion 
only to such vestiges as have been formed by a like excitation. 
All other stimuli remain unaffected, just as the many strings 
of an instrument are unaffected by a special tone if they are 
not tuned in accord with that tone. 

When by these means latent agencies are resuscitated into 
consciousness, we say also, they are reproduced, and we call 
them reproductions. By this term, accordingly, we do not 
mean that they originate anew, nor even that their con- 
sciousness is produced anew, but merely that they, as 
already formed aggregates with inherent strength of con- 
sciousness (which consists in their multiple vestiges), are 
brought out of a state of tranquillity into a state of excitation. 

They lose this state of excitation, and again fall into a state 
of delitescence so soon as mobile elements cease to excite 
them. Thus, the flood of our thoughts, coming and going, 
moves on, even in dreams, in accordance with unchangeable 
laws, laws of which we shall speak more fully in our further 
investigations. 

14. Vivacity of the Primitive Forces, and its Influence 
upon the Process of Transient Consciousness. 

Suppose a sheet of paper with a number of pictures on it 
be quickly passed before the eyes of a number of persons. 



VIVACITY OF THE PRIMITIVE FORCES. 37 

On inquiring afterward of the several persons how many of 
the different pictures they have recognized, we will, no doubt, 
receive different answers. Some may be able to name several 
of them, while others, perhaps, will confess that they have not 
recognized any with certainty. It seems, then, that some per- 
sons see quicker than others. We observe the same phenomenon 
if we pay attention to persons while they are reading. Some 
require a long time to read a page, while others peruse it very 
quickly. It would seem, however, that we perceive external 
stimuli quickest by the sense of hearing, when we consider 
with what rapidity we are able to catch the various sounds, 
syllables and words of a fast speaker, or the single notes of a 
lively piece of music. But in this respect, also, there is a dif- 
ference among different persons. Some hear more quickly 
than others. In general, however, it may be stated that the 
sense of hearing is the quickest of all the human senses. 

The sense of touch, and in connection with it the muscu- 
lar sense (1), likewise exhibit great rapidity in their actions, 
as is shown by the dexterity and rapidity with which some 
persons are able to handle different instruments, such as the 
violin, the piano, the pen, the needle, etc., or in talking and 
singing, the organs of the voice ; in wrestling, running and 
dancing, the organs of motion. But not so easily are we able to 
distinguish different flavors and savors if they follow each 
other in rapid succession. The sense of general feeling is also 
of a much slower nature. 

We thus find that besides acuteness (5) and energy (7), there 
is still another quality inherent in our primitive forces, that 
of greater or lesser quickness or vivacity in their action. This 
quality manifests itself in all the doings of man. One appears 
in constant, restless motion ; it is hard for him to sit still half 
an hour. Quickly he perceives what enters through eyes and 
ears, and as quickly he changes in his emotions, feelings and 
thoughts. What he has learned is always ready at hand, 
and he brings it forth with astonishing celerity. Another 
takes the world much more easily; he observes, talks, and 
acts quietly. While still others seem to lack quickness to 
such a degree that their motions become slow and heavy, 



38 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

their thoughts after-thoughts, and they appear dull and stupid, 
although they may not be ignorant of the subject in hand. 
Dulness of mind and ignorance are, therefore, two entirely 
different things. The first is a want of quickness; the latter 
a want of acquired knowledge. They are often found together. 

In view of all this, we come to the conclusion that a higher 
degree of quickness or vivacity of the primitive forces causes, not 
only a more rapid apprehension of external stimuli, but also a 
more rapid change of transient consciousness, a quicker and livelier 
mutability of latent agencies into conscious ones, and vice versa. In 
short, a livelier activity of the mind throughout. These three 
qualities of the primitive forces — acuteness, energy and quick- 
ness — constitute the fundamental character of every living 
soul. In them the child possesses from birth an inheritance 
which stamps upon each and every mental development 
that may follow afterward a subjective character. We 
find, therefore, among the millions of human beings no two 
who are exactly alike, even if they have originated from the 
same parents, and haA T e been brought up under the same ex- 
ternal influences and conditions. The reason is, there are no 
two living souls in whom all the primitive forces are endowed 
with the same degree of acuteness, energy and quickness. 

According to the degree of acuteness, the mind receives 
more or less finely shaded perceptions ; a higher or lower 
degree of energy causes more or less perfect vestiges (8), 
and the degree of quickness determines the degree of activity 
of the mind throughout. The entire objective development 
of the mind by means of external stimuli receives, even to 
its very elements, an indelible character from the inherent 
qualities of the primitive forces ; and, although at first this 
subjective character may scarcely be perceptible, it must grow 
in the course of development, as with the multiplication of 
vestiges it likewise multiplies ad infinitum. 

The human soul at birth cannot, therefore, be properly com- 
pared to a " tabula rasa." It does not receive passively what the 
outer world writes upon it. On the contrary, the subjective 
qualities of its primitive forces stamp at once their character 
upon all that is received, and thus, although at birth the soul 



ORIGIN OF CONCEPTS — ABSTRACTION. 39 

is yet vacant as regards objective modifications, it is neverthe- 
less subjectively a perfect individuality in regard to the nature 
of its primitive forces — their own subjective peculiarity as to 
acuteness, energy, and quickness. This peculiarity of the 
primitive forces remains the same through life. Whatever 
originates in the soul is dyed in this peculiarity, and thus it is 
that even all objective products (which ought to be alike every- 
where) nevertheless assume, as they grow in different persons, 
a more and more subjective character, completely corresponding 
to the higher or lower degrees of acuteness, energy, and quick- 
ness of the primitive forces of the individual. 

15. Origin of Concepts — Abstraction. 

There remains in the soul a vestige of all that we perceive 
with sufficient clearness (6); and all similar vestiges unite into 
one aggregate (9). In consequence of this originate all our 
conceptions of external objects, and in the course of time we 
acquire a large number of them (10). Now it will often 
happen that several of such aggregates are resuscitated into 
consciousness simultaneously, or at least in quick succession. 
For example, when walking through fields we may see hick- 
ory, beech, chestnut, walnut, oak and maple trees standing by 
the road. These present perceptions excite their similar ves- 
tiges, and we have a full consciousness of all these various ob- 
jects at the same time. What will be the consequence ? The 
same that always takes place when similar aggregates awake 
simultaneously into consciousness, namely : What is common to 
all, their similar or like constituents fuse again into a closer union 
because of the attraction of like to like (9). The similar in our 
illustrative case is trunk, branches, twigs, roots. 

Furthermore, w r e know that the resuscitation of mental ag- 
gregates into consciousness requires mobile elements, and that 
according to their afflux or withdrawal consciousness increases 
or fades (13). It is further a law of the mind (of which I shall 
speak more fully hereafter) that the largest quantity of mo- 
bile elements, is attracted by such aggregates as consist in them- 
selves of the most similar vestiges, and which, for this reason, 



40 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

arc so much more intimately and firmly united. It is, there- 
fore, of necessity that the present perceptions of the similar 
constituents (trunks, branches, etc.) attract a larger amount of 
the exciting elements than their dissimilar constituents (color, 
light, circumference, etc.). 

Nor is this all. Our consciousness of an object is the 
clearer, the greater the number of its similar vestiges that 
become excited with the present perception (10). If now in 
the six perceptions (hickories, beeches, etc.) we perceive what 
they have in common six times, and all other peculiarities only 
once, it is clear that the six-fold perception must gain a 
stronger consciousness than that which exists only once in 
each individual object. Hence it is that the perceptions — 
trunk, branches, twigs, roots — occupy the foreground of our 
consciousness, while the single properties of each necessarily 
recedeout of it. Thus we obtain a new aggregate, which we 
designate by the word tree, and which consists of only the similar 
constituents of the different sensorial apprehensions or perceptions, 
excluding all the particulars of each of the single objects. 

Such an aggregate is called in German Begriff, meaning a 
something that has been grasped together, corresponding, there- 
fore, nearest to the Anglo-Latin term concept, and we under- 
stand by it a general idea or conception (in the sense alluded 
to in 10), which is applicable to the whole class of apprehen- 
sions or perceptions of similar objects from which it was 
formed ; whereas & perception is applicable only to the one single 
object of which it is the product. 

This process of forming concepts has been styled abstraction, 
because consciousness is abstracted from the dissimilar ele- 
ments of a given number of otherwise similar perceptions. It 
therefore denotes only a part — and that a secondary one — of 
the process which in fact consists, as we have seen, in the very 
opposite of abstraction, that is, in a combination and concentration 
of the similar elements of different perceptions into one. This 
has been felt by a number of psychological writers, but by 
none has this process been so accurately denned as by Beneke. 
Still the term "abstraction, abstract idea," may pass very well, 
if we only understand it rightly, and I shall use it whenever 
it fits the occasion, in the above denned sense. 



ORIGIN OF CONCEPTS ABSTRACTION. 41 

A concept, or abstraction, is, therefore, the combination of the 
similar elements of different perceptions into one act of conscious- 
ness. This new combination remains as a vestige, and thus 
we gain by degrees from single concrete perceptions, con- 
cepts of whole classes of individual objects. The necessary 
requirements for their formation are the two following con- 
ditions: 

First, we must possess the single concrete perceptions. As im- 
possible as it is for a blind man to form an idea of color, or a 
deaf one of sound, is it for us at any time to form a real 
idea of any series of things, without having first the con- 
crete perceptions of the various corresponding objects. Lan- 
guage frequently deceives us on this point. Children may 
have acquired the use of words which signify certain ideas, so 
that it sounds as though they had the concepts themselves, 
while in reality they use only words. How frequently do 
we observe the same vague use of language in grown per- 
sons ! Their endless quarrels about words show exactly that 
often neither party has a real idea of what that word signifies, 
because they lack in the primitive perceptions, by which alone 
the idea embodied in the word could gain a substantial exist- 
ence. We remain ignorant of the concept " crystal " so long 
as we have not seen crystals of different varieties ; just as 
people a hundred years ago had no idea of a steam-engine. 

This simple fact is fraught with great importance for every 
teacher, who ought to bear in mind that, by causing his pupils 
to commit to memory technical terms and phrases, he may 
succeed in making them talk in such terms and phrases, but 
will never succeed in giving them substantial ideas, unless he 
causes them to make the several concrete perceptions, out of 
which alone ideas can originate. By this a rational teacher is 
distinguished from a mere memory-trainer. 

Secondly, the several concrete 'perceptions must be excited into 
consciousness at the same time, because in this way only can like 
meet like and combine in a new union. A child may have 
seen at different times a snail, a frog, a lizard, a turtle, etc., 
yet it is by the effort of the teacher to excite simultaneously 
into consciousness and to combine their similar constituents 
4 



42 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

into one conscious act, that the child receives an actual con- 
cept of a reptile. 

16. Gradation of Concepts — Classification — General- 
ization. 

In the last section I have remarked how easily we might 
be misled by taking a word for an actual concept. " The 
words," says J. Haven, in his Mental Philosophy, p. 167, 
" which constitute by far the greater part of the names of 
things are common nouns, that is, names of classes. The 
names of individual objects are comparatively few. Adjec- 
tives, specifying the qualities of objects, denote groups or 
classes possessing that common quality. Adverbs, qualifying 
verbs or adjectives, designate varieties or classes of action and 
of quality. Indeed, the very existence of language as a 
medium of communication and means of expression involves 
and depends upon this tendency of the mind to class together, 
and then to designate by a common noun, objects, diverse in 
reality, but agreeing in some prominent points of resem- 
blance." Words, then, are nothing but names ; and the con- 
cept exists in reality only in the mind, and exists there only 
in so far as we have acquired the several concrete perceptions, 
the similar of which fuses into a new aggregate during their 
simultaneous presence in consciousness. 

Think of a collection of coats, vests, jackets, pantaloons, 
boots, shoes, stockings, gloves, hats, caps, etc. Now, no mat- 
ter how different these things may appear in form, size, color, 
or material, they all serve one purpose — protection of the body — 
and this being common to all these objects, it at once manifests 
itself as the strongest in consciousness, and we obtain the con- 
cept " clothing" which concept savages do not possess — at least 
not to the same extent. 

Take the perceptions poker, brush, broom, basket, tub, 
pan, kettle, pot, plate, dish — things greatly differing from each 
other, yet all being used in the kitchen — they fuse, during their 
simultaneous presence in consciousness, by this very resem- 
blance into one conscious act and thus form a new concept, 
" kitchen utensils" 



GRADATION OF CONCEPTS. 43 

Or, observe house, barn, stable, shanty, theatre, church, 
college, castle, capitol, etc., and there will project into clearer 
consciousness, because common to all, the fact that these objects 
have been built for certain purposes, and thus we gain the con- 
cept "building" 

Now, let us excite into consciousness simultaneously these 
newly-gained concepts — clothing, kitchen utensils, building. 
They all unite in this particular: They are made by the 
hands of men, are the product of art, in its widest sense, and 
give a new and higher concept than any before ; and, if we 
contemplate this concept, together with all that nature pro- 
duces of a measurable character, we obtain the still higher 
concept " body" until finally, in uniting with it also what is 
not measurable, we arrive at the summit of our ascent in the 
concept of " being " or " existence." 

It is scarcely necessary to remark that in reality the acquisi- 
tion of these concepts does not go so fast as the above illustra- 
tions seem to imply, for the simple reason, already stated, that 
a concept is the product of the similar of the several concrete 
perceptions which must first be acquired. But it was not the 
object of these illustrations to show how fast concepts grow, 
but how they originate ; and thus I may sum up the results of 
our investigations as follows : Concepts originate in the human 
mind in consequence of the attraction of like to like, in this way : 
The similar of the several concrete perceptions fuse into a new 
aggregate, which constitutes the concept, and as concepts so formed 
have also points in common, these similarities again unite into new 
aggregates, and thus originate higher and higher concepts. The 
only condition necessary for this development is the simul- 
taneous presence of the concrete perceptions or respectively 
lower concepts in consciousness, long enough, and persistent 
enough, to produce a thorough attraction of like to like. 

Thus we come to a gradation of concepts, or classification of 
all that exists and is perceived by means of the senses or 
mentally, into genera and species, with all the various sub- 
divisions ; a process of mind by which alone order is estab- 
lished among the millions of objects which the outer world, 
as well as the interior working of the mind, incongruously 



44 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

presents to man ; a process without which no science could be 
possible, and which itself rests upon the simple law of the 
attraction of like to like. 

This process is also called generalization. Our personal 
observation is always a limited one. We cannot observe all 
the trees, all the houses, all the animals, etc., in order to 
combine, out of the perception of all, their similars into one 
concept. That would be wholly impossible. A limited num- 
ber of perceptions generally suffices to elucidate their common 
character, and to yield the aggregate of their similarity into 
a concept, and we then extend this concept to all the simi- 
lar objects. In short, we generalize. The truthfulness of such 
generalization depends entirely upon the correctness with 
which we conclude in what respect diverse objects are really 
similar ; that is, in forming a correct concept. This, if per- 
fectly correct, will surely fit to all the individuals of the same 
class, and we may with safety generalize, that is, extend the 
group of similars, of which the concept consists, to all other 
individuals of the same class. Whether we have perceived 
them or not, or whether we ever shall perceive them, is a mat- 
ter of no consequence. Nature is always true to herself. 

If we now consider the various concepts in regard to their 
nature as lower and higher concepts, we shall have to direct 
our attention to two points, viz. : Their content or intension 
and their sphere or extension. The content of a concept is 
always what it consists of, the similarities of diverse objects 
united into one aggregate. The content of a concept is, there- 
fore, the identical concept itself — nothing more nor less. The 
concept "tree" consists of "trunk, branches, twigs, roots," as 
the similarity of all perceptions of various individuals, com- 
bined during a simultaneous consciousness into one aggre- 
gate. This is the content or intension of the concept " tree." 
The content of the concept " being or existence " is the very 
least that we can say of anything, namely, that it exists. 
The higher the concept, therefore, the fewer will be the attri- 
butes which constitute it, while the lower concepts must 
necessarily embrace a greater complement of attributes to 
make up its content. We might express this also in this 






GRADATION OF CONCEPTS. 45 

manner : The content of a concept diminishes in the same degree 
as the concept rises higher in the scale of classification, and vice 
versa. 

Altogether different is the sphere or extension of a concept, 
which consists of all the individual perceptions or concepts, 
oat of the simile of which the concept was formed. The con- 
cept "tree" contains in its sphere all the individual trees 
that exist, while the notion "being" is applicable to all its 
divisions and subdivisions, down to the very concrete per- 
ceptions, out of the simile of which the lowest concepts and 
their gradation up to the highest concept, " being, or exist- 
ence," originated. It is evident, therefore, that the sphere of 
a concept increases as it rises higher in the scale of classification, 
and vice versa. This sphere of a concept, when it is meant 
wholly, is usually expressed in language by the words " all or 
each " (all men, all soldiers, etc.) ; when meant partially, by 
the word "some" (some men, some soldiers, etc.). 

There is one point more which should be considered 
when we speak of the gradation of concepts. It is the ques- 
tion : Can higher concepts ever originate previous to lower 
concepts ? As the higher concept is the combination of all the 
similarities which the lower concepts present, we would 
naturally suppose that this question would be answered in 
the negative. But experience teaches altogether differently. 
We find that children have acquired the concept of " bird " " 
much sooner than that of "lark;" the concept of "tree" 
much sooner than that of " maple," or " linden," etc., because 
the more general concept consists of fewer attributes, which 
are more quickly acquired, and very often not even correctly 
acquired, so that in the mind of a child " bird " is all that 
flies, insects, as well as bats and kites. A clearly defined con- 
cept, whether high or low, always requires for its perfection 
a clear and steady coexistence in consciousness of the concrete 
perceptions, out of which a thorough union of their real simile 
alone can be effectuated. We may assert, then, that such 
anticipated higher concepts, although they are frequently 
conceived, are nevertheless premature, and, therefore, im- 
perfect concepts, and their existence alters nothing in the 



46 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

normal gradation of concepts, according to which the higher 
must necessarily arise out of the lower. 

In regard to the influence of the innate qualities of our 
primitive forces, it is evident that a greater amount of energy 
and acuteness must bring forth greater clearness and greater 
correctness to all our concepts, showing the reason of the 
existing differences in this respect between the different 
human beings, and the insurmountable difference between 
man and beast. "The brute knows one thing at a time, and 
that one thing goes from his mind as it comes — a solitary, 
uninstructive fact. But man, in learning that one thing, 
learns all things of the same genus in the universe, and all 
these, too, in their relations to other genera and to the uni- 
versal system." — Winslow, Elements of Philosophy, p. 255. 

17. The Intellect — The Understanding. 

The concepts hitherto considered always arise ultimately 
from primitive perceptions or sensorial apprehensions, and as 
perceptions are the product of the action of external stimuli 
upon corresponding primitive forces (4), of course concepts 
must be traced to the same origin, with the exception of those 
dissimilar elements which belong to each single perception 
individually, because concepts are the aggregates of only the 
similar attributes of different objects. Concepts are identical 
with perceptions only so far as the similarity between different 
perceptions reaches, and their peculiarity consists in the con- 
centration of all the similar, out of a variety, into one con- 
scious act. 

Concepts consist, then, of a portion of the same vestiges of 
which perceptions consist, and they must last, therefore, as 
long as their vestiges last, remaining as latent agencies, which 
may be excited into consciousness in the manner described in 
12 and 13. As in the progress of life we are continually 
adding new acquisitions, our store of perceptions, concepts, 
and higher ideas, is continually on the increase, and so much 
the more as we intentionally and diligently look around and 
compare what we have been observing. Now, the question 



THE INTELLECT. 47 

arises : What do we gain by the acquisition of concepts? 
The answer lies in the very nature of these concepts. As they 
are the union of the similar of many perceptions, they must 
present this simile in a much greater clearness of conscious- 
ness than each single perception, because the clearness of con- 
sciousness grows with the multiplication of similar vestiges. 
(Compare 10 and 15). Concepts are, therefore, mental modi- 
fications, possessing a greater clearness of consciousness than 
any other mental modification, because in their very nature 
they consist of what alone causes consciousness — a union or 
fusion of many similar elements (10). They are, therefore, the 
very light of the soul. Only so far as w T e have acquired con- 
cepts, we understand, and we can follow a discourse intelligently 
only so far as we possess the concepts of which that discourse 
treats. A popular lecturer must speak altogether differently 
from a scientific one, and we need not wonder if we find that 
to a musician mathematics are Spanish provinces, or that an 
astronomer may not be able to distinguish rye from wheat. 
In short, our understanding or intellect reaches just so far, 
and no farther, than the concepts which we have acquired 
reach. There is an old proverb that teaches the same idea: Ne 
sutor ultra crepidam. We may say, in short, the intellect, the 
understanding, consists essentially of the sum of the concepts which 
have been acquired during the process of mental development by 
each individual. 

This brings us certainly in opposition to the common view, 
according to which the intellect makes the concepts. We have 
sufficiently shown how concepts originate, so that we need not 
refute now a supposed faculty to make them. Before the first 
concepts have originated there is no understanding, and 
only in the degree in which concepts are acquired, does the 
understanding grow, in the child generally, as well as in 
arts and sciences particularly. All must be learned from the 
beginning, id est, must be by single perceptions gradually 
acquired and sublimated into the necessary concepts before 
we can gain any understanding of anything whatsoever. The 
only necessary conditions for this development are, primitive 
forces endowed with sufficient energy, and the law of attrac- 
tion of like to like. 



48 the intellectual sphere of the mind. 

18. Judging — Judgment. 

Concepts once acquired remain as vestiges ready for future 
use. I see before me coal, tar and ink, and I say these things 
are black. To the present perceptions rises the concept 
"black." I see an emerald and I say it is green. Another 
concept, therefore, joins this perception. I hear a clock strike 
and I may say the clock sounds. Thus, if we perceive a thing, 
there almost always rises a concept into consciousness, joining the 
thing perceived. To the subject is added a predicate. 

We did not feel inclined to say coal is green, emerald is 
black, the clock flies. Why did not such concepts join our 
perceptions ? Because, as we have seen in 9, only the like 
and similar attract one another and unite. 

The first perceptions do not lie in the sphere of the latter 
concepts, and cannot, therefore, excite them into consciousness. 
A clearer statement of the above might, therefore, be made by 
saying : If we perceive a thing, only such concepts rise into 
consciousness as have been formed from the similar of many 
such perceptions. 

Furthermore, if the similar of the concepts black, red, green, 
blue, gray, violet, etc., again unite into one conscious act, 
we obtain the higher concept " color." I can say now, red, 
green, etc., are colors, showing also that a concept of a lower 
order is frequently joined by a similar higher concept. 

When this takes place, namely: (1) When either the simple 
perception is joined by a like concept, or (2), when a concept is 
joined by a similar higher concept, we then say : The mind judges. 

Judging, or judgment, consists, therefore, of nothing more 
than a simultaneous consciousness of a perception with a cor- 
responding concept, or a concept with a similar higher con- 
cept ; or, in other words, of a union of a subject with a corre- 
sponding predicate, the latter, by its sphere, entirely covering 
the former, because it is the sum of all the similar of many 
such perceptions or lower concepts. 

We have, then, in an act of judging nothing but the same 
vestiges we have acquired by our original perceptions, and 
which, by a union of their similars, have become subli- 
mated into concepts and higher concepts. 



INFLUENCES DURING AN ACT OF JUDGING. 49 

The simultaneous presence in consciousness of subject and 
predicate causes a determinate junction between them (com- 
pare 38) ; and thus a judgment, once formed, must endure 
so long as this connection is not dissolved. It remains 
like all other mental modifications, as a latency, ready to be 
called into consciousness at any future time. In this way we 
gradually gather a great number of judgments, and if we 
understand by the faculty of judging this sum of judgments 
acquired in the course of time, we have not much to say 
against it. But, if it is to mean a special power of the mind, 
by which each act of judging is produced, we hope to have 
sufficiently shown that there is no such special power, but 
that these acts of judging are but the necessary consequence 
of the mind's law — the attraction of like to like. 

19. Reciprocal Influence of the Concept and Percep- 
tion upon each Other During an Act of Judging. 

If, as we have seen, in an act of judging, nothing but similar 
vestiges previously acquired are added to the present percep- 
tion, the question arises : What influence has this simul- 
taneous consciousness of the two constituents of a judgment 
(subject and predicate) upon each other? We know from 
what we have seen in 17 that the predicate, being a concept 
or a higher concept, contains the similar in a multiplied con- 
centration. It will add, therefore, clearness to the subject, 
which contains this similar only singly. It illuminates the sub- 
ject, so to speak. Suppose I have a clear concept of the natural 
family Ranunculacese, and I see for the first time a Pulsatilla 
plant. It is very likely that the perception of this plant ex- 
cites into consciousness the concept of the Ranunculaceae, and if 
so, I would judge this plant, although new to me, is a Ranun- 
culacese. At once I look with altogether different eyes upon 
it than I would if I had not this concept. It ceases to look en- 
tirely strange to me. It presents quite a good many features 
I have observed previously in other plants. In short, the 
concept " Ranunculaceae " makes this new perception clearer 
illuminates it, because it adds the multiplied vestiges of similar 
previous perceptions. 



50 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

And what does the subject ? It adds new, fresh elements 
to the predicate, as the above example likewise shows. My 
concept of the Ranunculaceae had been formed without this 
variety, of which the present perception is a specimen. There 
it is to be seen in all its peculiarity, and I find that by observ- 
ing and looking at it my concept of the Ranunculaceae gains. 
It becomes enriched, invigorated, grows fresher again, so to 
speak. 

The influence of the simultaneous presence in conscious- 
ness of subject and predicate during an act of judging is 
therefore reciprocal, and a very marked one, namely : The 
subject (present perception or conception) is rendered clearer, be- 
comes illuminated, while the predicate (the concept) is enriched, 
livened up by new and fresh elements which only perception or sen- 
sorial apprehension can afford. 

The act of judging, then, although it adds nothing new, 
nevertheless is of the greatest importance both to the subject 
as well as to the predicate. The former gains in clearness, the 
latter in freshness. 



20. Inferences — Syllogisms. 

It often happens that more than one judgment is excited 
into consciousness at the same time. For example: All human 
beings are mortal ; the negro is a human being. We have in 
these two judgments, three concepts presenting themselves 
side by side: Human being, mortal, negro. In the first judg- 
ment we find the concept " mortal " applied to all human 
beings, therefore to the whole sphere of this concept. The 
second judgment determines the " negro " as belonging to 
this sphere. What now will be the consequence of the 
simultaneous consciousness of these three concepts ? Human 
being and negro are two entirely similar concepts, the negro 
presenting merely a species of the whole human race. They 
w r ill, therefore, fuse together in consciousness; and as the 
concept " negro " is expressly lifted into the foreground, con- 
sciousness will concentrate upon it, while its fellow-concept 
fades away by the expressly emphasized concept " negro " of 



INFERENCES SYLLOGISMS. 51 

the second judgment, and now there is for the still remain- 
ing, but dissimilar concept of the first judgment, "mortal," 
nothing left but to join the full conscious concept " negro," 
which fact we express in a new judgment as a conclusion out 
of the two judgments : "(therefore) the negro is mortal" 

If in two judgments the similar concepts are wanting, there 
can never originate any new judgment or conclusion, although 
they may present themselves side by side in consciousness. 
For example : The bird flies ; the lizard is a reptile. Here all 
the concepts lie in different spheres. A fusion into one is im- 
possible, just as impossible as in the judgments : Iron is hard 
and honey is sweet. Such judgments can never unite into 
one, can never give rise to a new judgment, a conclusion or 
inference ; but must always stand asunder. 

But if two judgments which contain similar concepts, together 
with one that is dissimilar, are roused simultaneously into con- 
sciousness, then the similar concepts fuse together, and there 
originates a new judgment, because the dissimilar concept joins 
now that of the similar concepts which has been expressly lifted 
in the foreground of our consciousness. 

Such a process is designated in common by the word 
reasoning, an expression rather loosely defined as yet in books. 
The whole process is technically called a syllogism, or an infer- 
ence, and consists of three judgments. The first two are called 
the premises (of which the first is the major and the second the 
minor proposition), and the third, which follows, is the conclu- 
sion. One of the premises is always destined to mark out 
that concept on which stress is to be laid in the formation of 
the new judgment. Most generally is this done by the minor 
premise, but it may likewise be done by the major. In fact 
nothing depends upon the position of the several judgments, 
as the following may show : 

Some animals are birds ; all birds lay eggs ; consequently 
some animals lay eggs. 

Here the minor premise stands before the major (instead: All 
birds lay eggs ; some animals are birds). Nevertheless the 
conclusion follows legitimately because the position has nothing 
to do with the attraction of like to like, which exerts itself in any posi- 



52 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

tion. A syllogism, as the foregoing clearly shows, is a combi- 
nation of judgments which results in the formation of a new 
judgment because of the similarity of their concepts, which, by 
the law of attraction of like to like, fuse together in con- 
ciousness, and thus give rise to the conclusion. It is, then, a 
mental act which takes place naturally, necessarily, without 
any provocation or effort on our part. Just exactly as concepts 
are formed from a combination of the similar of various per- 
ceptions, or as judgments are formed by the joining of similar 
concepts to perceptions, so judgments also combine into a con- 
clusion if they contain similar concepts capable of fusing 
together in consciousness. It is always the same law of 
attraction of like to like which originates these processes, 
and the assumption of the necessity of special faculties or 
powers to create such actions is neither necessary nor even 
allowable in accurate discrimination. Conclusions, once 
drawn, remain as vestiges, like all other mental modifica- 
tions, ready for future use. 

But we almost always apply conclusions in an abridged 
form, as for example : Like all human beings, the negro is 
mortal. To this abridged form we may even count the 
negative judgments, if they are not a mere grammatical quid 
pro quo, such as : This is not a difficult task = is a light task. 
He is not diligent = he is lazy. The real negative judgments 
are abridged syllogisms. For example : The bat is no bird. 
This would read in full : The bat bears young alive ; the bird 
never bears young alive, but lays eggs. Consequently the bat 
is no bird. 

21. Additional Remarks on Judgment and Inferences. 

Often when we judge or infer we make use of those judg- 
ments and conclusions already stored up in our minds as 
latent agencies. They are merely resuscitated into conscious- 
ness. For this purpose we need the mobile elements of con- 
sciousness of which we have spoken in 12 and 13. Whenever 
the mobile elements unite, either from without or from within, 
with a part of such a judgment or syllogism, this part is ex- 



ADDITIONAL REMARKS ON JUDGMENTS AND INFERENCES. 53 

cited into consciousness, and being closely combined with the 
rest, the whole act of judging or inferring is re-established 
in consciousness. (Compare 39.) 

Moreover, new judgments and inferences are easily formed, 
and necessarily so, when our concepts join with new per- 
ceptions, or our judgments of similar concepts combine to 
form new conclusions. In all cases it is only necessary that 
the different constituents of either a judgment or an infer- 
ence should be excited simultaneously into consciousness. 

The attraction of like to like cannot take place without this 
condition. Thus we may say that, in order to form judg- 
ments or inferences, it is necessary that the constituents of these 
acts should become simultaneously excited into consciousness; that, 
consequently, there must be present mobile elements which alone can 
cause such excitation. These mobile elements consist, as we 
have seen, of external stimuli, or partially modified primitive 
forces ; or, primitive forces which never have been modified by 
external stimuli. The first two kinds cause an involuntary, 
the latter a voluntary excitation into consciousness. (Com- 
pare 13.) 

But there is still another quite necessary condition for the 
formation of judgments and inferences — the innate quickness 
of our primitive forces. We have seen, in 14, how this quality 
of the primitive forces imprints its character upon all mental 
actions. Without the necessary quickness it would be of 
little use to have the clearest and best concepts. If concepts 
do not become conscious at the right time, we might just as 
well not possess them. In order, therefore, to judge and to in- 
fer with facility a certain degree of quickness of the primitive 
forces is indispensable. 

If, lastly, we consider that, in 17, we defined the intellect 
or the understanding as the sum of all concepts, it is clear that 
we there meant intellect in its narrowest sense. Judgments and 
inferences are equally intellectual operations, because they are 
not possible without concepts. We must, therefore, also in- 
clude these in the sphere of the intellect, or intellectual develop- 
ment, inasmuch as they require the same peculiar mental 
modifications — concepts characterized by the combination of 



54 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

many similar elements — which alone bring clearness into the 
mind, and, therefore, may be rightly called the light of the soul. 
This brings us to the question : Is the intellect an innate 
faculty or power of the human mind? It has always been so con- 
sidered, because a distinction was never made between the 
developed and the non-developed intellect. The non-developed 
intellect we have found to consist of nothing more than the 
energy of our primitive forces to maintain that definite 
development as vestiges, which has been wrought by the 
action of external stimuli, and which finally, by the law of 
attraction of like to like, combines into concepts, judgments, 
and inferences. The developed intellect, then, requires, if we 
first consider its inferring faculty, a single judgment as a 
basis. Judgments are impossible without concepts. Concepts 
cannot originate without primitive perceptions, and primitive 
perceptions would not be fit to be sublimated into concepts if 
their vestiges were not perfectly retained by a sufficient degree 
of energy of the primitive forces. Thus we come back again 
to the energy of our primitive forces, w T hich energy indeed, 
besides the law of attraction of like to like, is the innate, ulti- 
mate and only source of the human understanding. 

The developed intellect we may call a faculty or power, 
acquired but not innate, and thus settle the question. 

An analyzing method of examination cannot allow un- 
questioned the existence of any such artificial so-called 
faculties or powers. In the practice of that method we must 
endeavor to examine into the very elements of mental pro- 
cesses, no matter how complicated these processes appear, 
and show the existence of their elements, and then construe 
out of them the very process in question. Only in this way 
is it possible to gain clear and distinct knowledge of mental 
development and growth. We must, in this investigation, fol- 
low the same method as that by which other natural sciences 
have attained their high perfection. By the strict carrying 
out of these principles Beneke has succeeded in elevating 
Psychology to the level of the other natural sciences, and in 
this way developed an insight into the hidden workings of 
our mind, as no one before him had ever been able to do. 






SUMMARY. 55 

Beneke, by his wonderful genius, created an altogether new 
science of Psychology. 

22. Summary. 

I. The primitive forces of the human soul. — These primitive 
forces manifest themselves as the faculties of seeing, hearing, 
touching, smelling, tasting and feeling, and these faculties 
are known by the name of senses (1-3). We call them 
primitive forces, because they are the original and innate powers 
of the mind (3), the elements of which the mind consists of 
at birth, and out of which all further capabilities gradually 
develop. 

The primitive forces possess three different qualities in 
various degrees : 

1. Acuteness or sensitiveness, in consequence of the existence of 
which quality the different primitive forces need for their ob- 
jective development a smaller or larger quantum of external 
stimuli (5). 

2. Energy or retentiveness, in consequence of which the dif- 
ferent primitive forces continue to exist more or less perma- 
nently in the definite change which they have undergone by 
the action of external stimuli upon them (7) ; and, 

3. Quickness, in consequence of which the different primitive 
forces receive more or less rapidly external stimuli, and cause 
a more or less lively convertibility of latent agencies into 
conscious ones. In short, a more or less lively activity of the 
entire mind (14). 

The primitive forces, endowed in varying degrees with these 
qualities, constitute the very being, the very essence of the 
human soul, and predetermine the soul's entire future develop- 
ment, which development, even under the most similar external 
influences, must nevertheless attain in the course of time an 
entirely subjective character (14). The higher, spiritual 
nature of the human soul has its foundation in the greater 
energy of its primitive forces (10, and others). Primitive 
forces are constantly acted upon by external stimuli, and be- 
come objectively developed, in which objectively developed 



56 THE INTELLECTUAL SPHERE OF THE MIND. 

state they remain as vestiges (61). The primitive forces 
consumed in this process are replenished during sleep (13). 

Not all the primitive forces assume a definite, fixed form 
from the action of external stimuli upon them. These forces 
are sometimes merely changed in a general way correspond- 
ing to the more general action of external stimuli. Being 
only partially acted upon, these forces retain their mobile 
nature (like the primitive forces unaffected by external 
stimuli) and remain capable of exciting into motion or con- 
sciousness such latent modifications as bear more or less re- 
semblance to them. By their withdrawal the excitation ceases. 

II. External stimuli. — External stimuli consist of external 
influences capable of affecting either the sight, hearing, touch, 
smell, taste or feeling (3). We have found thus far that the 
quantitative relation of external stimuli to the primitive forces 
may be either sufficient, so as to produce clear perceptions and a 
feeling of satisfaction, or insufficient, producing no perceptions, 
or, at least, no clear perceptions, and a feeling of dissatisfaction 
(11). By their action upon the primitive forces the latter 
are objectively developed (4), and as these modifications re- 
main as vestiges (6), and constantly become augmented by 
the action of new similar external stimuli, there arise conscious 
aggregates (10). The external stimuli excite their similar 
vestiges into consciousness (12). 

III. The fundamental processes of the human soul: 

1. The reception of external stimuli, which is : In the human 
soul originate sensations and perceptions in consequence of im- 
pressions from the external world (4). 

In consequence of the nature of the primitive forces — the 
primitive forces being life itself — they endeavor to assimilate 
external stimuli, and by the assimilation of external stimuli 
the primitive forces grow into specific forms. These specific 
forms endure. By reason of this process vestiges originate in 
the human soul (6) and constitute what is commonly under- 
stood by memory (9). That all which once originates with a 
sufficient degree of perfection endures, until it is destroyed, 
is a universal law (6). 

2. The attraction of like to like, which is : In the human soul 
constantly unite like with like, and similar with similar (9). 



SUMMARY. 57 

New external stimuli (present impressions) always and un- 
mistakably find their similars (which exist as vestiges from 
former similar impressions) ; external stimuli excite the pre- 
existing similar impressions into consciousness (12) and unite 
with them. In this way consciousness grows clearer and 
stronger in the proportion in which similar impressions unite 
(10). In like manner the like of different perceptions fuse 
and form a new mental modification, which new modification 
we call a concept (15) ; and if again the like of different con- 
cepts fuse into one, we obtain a higher concept (16). 

Thus we logically come to the consideration of classification 
and generalization (16). 

Of what does the intellect or understanding consist? (17 
and 21). When either a similar concept joins a simple per- 
ception, or a concept is joined by a similar higher concept, we 
say the mind judges. What is the faculty of judging? (18). 
Of what does the reciprocal influence of the concept and per- 
ception upon each other during an act of judging consist? ( 19). 
The similar concepts of two judgments unite also into one con- 
scious act, forming a conclusion. The whole process is called 
an inference or a syllogism, and denotes what is generally un- 
derstood by the term inferring (20). What are the condi- 
tions necessary for successful judgments and syllogisms ? (21). 
What may be called the light of the soul ? (21). Is the under- 
standing an innate faculty of the mind? (21). 






PART II. 



THE SPHERE OF CONATION. 



23. Explanation of the Term Conation. 

I am glad to be able to refer, as an authority for the use of 
this term, to so eminent an authority as Sir Wm, Hamilton. 

"In English, unfortunately, we have no term capable of 
adequately expressing what is common both to will and desire; 
that is, the nisus or conatus — the tendency toward the realiza- 
tion of their end. By will is meant a free and deliberate, by 
desire a blind and fatal, tendency to act. Now, to express, I 
say, the tendency to overt action — the quality in which desire and 
will are equally contained — we possess no English term to which 
an exception of more or less cogency may not be taken. Were 
we to say the phenomena of tendency, the phrase would be 
vague ; and the same is true of the phenomena of doing. Again, 
the term phenomena of appetency is objectionable, because (to 
say nothing of the unfamiliarity of the expression), though 
perhaps etymologically unexceptionable, it has both in Latin 
and English a meaning almost synonymous with desire. Like 
the Latin appetentia, the Greek 'opegcq is equally ill-balanced, 
for, though used by philosophers to comprehend both will and 
desire, it more familiarly suggests the latter, and we must not, 
therefore, be solicitous, with Mr. Harris and Lord Monboddo, 
to naturalize in English the form orectic. Again, the phrase 
phenomena of activity would be even worse; every possible 
objection can be made to the terms active powers, by which the 
philosophers of this country have designated the orectic facul- 

(58) 






PRIMITIVE FORCES ARE CONATIVE IN THEIR NATURE. 59 

ties of the Aristotelians. For, you will observe that all facul- 
ties are equally active ; and it is not the overt performance, but 
the tendency toward it, for which we are in quest of an expression. 
The German is the only language I am acquainted with which 
is able to supply the term of which philosophy is in want. 
The expression Bestrebungs-Vermogen, which is most nearly, 
though awkwardly and inadequately, translated by striving 
faculties — faculties of effort or endeavor — is now generally em- 
ployed, in the philosophy of Germany, as the genus compre- 
hending desire and will." {Lectures on Metaphysics, p. 128.) 
Our author quoted finally adopts the terms conation and cona- 
tive (from conari) as the most appropriate expressions for the 
class of phenomena in question, and so shall I. Without these 
terms I should be at a loss to convey the ideas I shall endeavor 
to express in this part of my work. Nevertheless, I shall also 
use the terms striving and tending for the German streben, as 
both or either of them may at times express the sense of the 
ideas to be conveyed better than the Latin conation and 
conati ve. 

24. The Primitive Forces are Conative in their Nature. 

The human soul has been wrongly compared to a tabula rasa. 
Being a living soul, its primitive forces are tending to act and 
to receive. In the presence of external stimuli, primitive 
forces are not merely passively impressed, but they seize the 
external stimuli actively, because they are conative in their 
nature. 

This living activity manifests itself continually. Observe 
the new-born child. When awake it is in continual motion; 
its hands, feet, head, eyes and tongue move; and, after awhile, 
if the little one be neglected, it cries. At a later period, the 
child is continually on the go; and if it is not properly occu- 
pied it will be doing all sorts of mischief. Man, as well as the 
child, must do something; and if he is not in the habit of 
doing right, he will do wrong. We meet occasionally people 
who, after working hard and contentedly, are met by the mis- 
fortune of suddenly acquired riches. Now happiness begins ! 



GO THE SPHERE OF CONATION. 

some might think, and they are happy for a while. But such 
persons soon become discontented and uneasy, because if they 
have given up work, they do not know what to do with them- 
selves. Parisians have much to say about rich Englishmen 
who come to Paris to partake of all the pleasures that city of 
luxury and laxity affords, and who, after becoming tired and 
satiated, know of nothing better to do than to end their ennui 
with a pistol. 

" With pleasure drugged, he almost longed for woe, 
And e'en for change of scene would seek the shades below." — Byron. 

The single-cell system is a means of great punishment, if 
the prisoner be kept shut off without employment. In fact, 
man cannot stand doing nothing. He feels incessantly urged 
and forced to apply his strength, because his primitive forces are, 
in their very nature, conative, that is, tending or striving to be em- 
ployed. If, now, we once more look back to the infant, we find 
that it is all the same to him whether we show him one or 
another object. With equal willingness he receives external 
stimuli of any color, form or size. He shows no particular 
desire for a special sound, and all his other primitive forces 
tend merely toward a union with external stimuli correspond- 
ing to their nature. 

From this fact it follows that the innate conative nature of the 
primitive forces is not a tendency or striving toward specially de- 
fined or particular external stimuli, but rather a general tendency 
toward repletion with external stimuli which correspond to their 
nature. 

A special conation exists only so far as the faculties of 
sight tend toward repletion with elements of light, the facul- 
ties of hearing toward elements of sound, etc. In short, each 
class of primitive forces strive toward stimuli which correspond 
to their nature. Indeed, special tendencies, id est, particular de- 
sires, for one or another special object or external stimulus, no 
child has ever shown at birth. Even the mother's breast it 
does not care for, if its conation for nourishment is otherwise 
amply satisfied. 

How, then, do all special desires, longings, appetites, etc., 



QUANTITATIVE RELATION. 61 

originate, if the primitive forces possess a conative nature so 
indeterminate in its character ? 

We shall endeavor to explain in the following chapters. 

25. Quantitative Relation Between the External Stim- 
uli and the Primitive Forces. 

Of quantitative relations between external stimuli and primi- 
tive forces we know two kinds (11), namely : 1. The external 
stimuli are too iveak, too faint, to cause the recipient forces to be fully 
developed. This is an insufficient stimulation, and causes a cor- 
responding feeling of non-satisfaction. In such cases the forces 
are not perfected, as the immediate feeling of non-satisfaction 
proves. On the contrary, they are merely tainted, imperfectly 
developed, and remain at best as obscure and imperfect vestiges. 

2. The external stimuli are adequate to the recipient forces. 
Under this favorable condition the primitive forces exhaust 
the conative power in the reception of the stimuli. The yearn- 
ing of the primitive forces for development is appeased. 
We know the yearning for development is appeased by 
the immediate feeling of satisfaction always attendant upon 
such a process. The primitive forces assume predominantly 
and permanently the character of the stimuli; they undergo 
a definite and complete transformation or objective develop- 
ment, in which they endure as vestiges; and as additional 
like processes result in clear perceptions, this relation of 
external stimuli to primitive forces is the actual basis of all 
intellectual development, We shall call it the full stimulation. 
But there are other relations yet to be considered. 

3. Suppose we enter a theatre or ball-room, splendidly illu- 
minated and decorated, or remember our younger days, when 
at Christmas-eve we were called into the room where the 
Christmas-tree stood in its radiant beauty. I am sure the re- 
membrance alone that gave such glory to childhood brings a 
smile to the cheek, however careworn. Suppose we hear a 
poem well recited. This gives us pleasure. Let the poem be 
sung and accompanied by an orchestra, and it will cause a still 
greater pleasurable feeling. Why is this ? 



62 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. 

In both cases there are more external stimuli rushing to our 
senses than are actually required to satisfy the capacity of the 
recipient forces. A much smaller amount would be sufficient 
to cause clear perceptions. This abundance, we feel, does not 
increase clearness, but throws the primitive forces into a state 
of excitement, which rather hinders than promotes a quiet and 
perfect development of the same, and although it is attended 
w T ith an immediate feeling of pleasure, we nevertheless soon 
become tired of a long continuance of such superabundant 
stimulation. This relation of external stimuli to primitive 
forces we shall call the pleasurable stimulation. 

4. As already mentioned, we soon become tired of pleasur- 
able stimulations. Just as little as man can stand doing 
nothing, can he bear an excitement which has nothing but 
pleasure for its object. This fact can be proven by a number 
of instances. 

The pleasure experienced in listening to a melody, however 
sweet and pleasing at first, if continued for too long a time, 
becomes intolerable. We may even become nauseated at the 
sight of a rich and finely-savored dish, if we have eaten of it too 
often ; although the eating of it for the first few times gave us 
keen gustatory pleasure. The man who spends his life in 
constant pleasurable excitements, wears himself out before his 
time. We have here a relation of external stimuli to the 
primitive forces similar to the third ; that is, more elements 
than the forces require, and, in consequence, a pleasurable 
stimulation at first. But if this abundant influence is pro- 
tracted too long or too often repeated, it causes a prostration 
of the primitive forces, manifesting itself in an immediate 
feeling of satiety, disgust or loathing. A condition of super- 
abundant stimuli is not at all favorable to a perfect de- 
velopment of the primitive forces. We may call this 
quantitative relation — this gradually increasing over-stimula- 
tion of the primitive forces — the satiating stimulation. 

5. When from a dark room we suddenly emerge into the 
glaring sunlight, or when a gun is unexpectedly fired near us, 
or when we take some acrid substance into the mouth, or 
smell a pungent essence, or our hand comes in contact with a 



QUANTITATIVE RELATION. 63 

hot stove, or we receive a blow upon any part of our body — 
in all these instances the external stimuli are too strong. They 
act suddenly, overwhelmingly upon the primitive forces and 
necessarily prostrate and cripple them. It is attended with 
an immediate feeling of pain. We call this relation the pain- 
ful stimulation. It is obvious that under such conditions a 
perfect development of the primitive forces has but a poor 
chance. The quantitative relation between external stimuli 
and primitive forces is of a five-fold nature, and may consist 
of (a) an insufficient, (b) a full, (c) a pleasurable, (d) a satiating, 
and (e) a painful stimulation. 

It will be necessary simply to intimate here that, in the 
actual play of our faculties, these classes are not marked by 
such strict lines of demarcation as are here presented. As 
everywhere in nature, there is also under the circumstances 
cited a gradual transition of one into the other, so that it is 
not possible to determine the quantum of external stimuli for 
a full or for a nearly full, or for an insufficient stimulation, etc. 
There is another important feature of these various quanti- 
tative relations that may, at this time at least, be touched upon. 
Everything that attains existence continues to exist until 
destroyed, and continues to exist with its own special character- 
istics, until they are altered. Now, it is clear that each of the 
different stimulations gives a peculiar character to the product 
resulting from that stimulation. The product of a. full stimu- 
lation must have a different character from that of a pleasur- 
able stimulation ; and both must differ essentially from the 
products of the remaining stimulations, which all, more or 
less, produce mental modifications of a feeble and imperfect 
character. If their products endure, their peculiar characters 
must also endure until changed. Consequently we find in these 
different stimulations the true foundation of the various 
characters, moods, tempers and peculiarities of the developed 
mind. One whose mental modifications are predominantly 
developed by full stimulations, will always be found well- 
balanced, cool and reflective. One whose mental modifications 
have received their predominant character from pleasurable 
stimulations, will always be wanting, wishing, longing and 



64 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. 

fickle. A predominance of the remaining stimulations can- 
not produce anything but a weak, cross, irritable and peevish 
disposition. Hence the various dispositions of men are not 
innate qualities of the mind, but products; one great factor of 
which consists in the above-described different quantitative 
relations between the external stimuli and the primitive forces. 

26. Mental Modifications Originating in Pleasurable 
Stimulations Result in Desires. 

I refer to what has been stated in the last chapter. Some- 
times external stimuli are offered in greater abundance than the 
primitive forces require for their full development. In this case 
they cause an agitation of the primitive forces, attended by 
an immediate feeling of pleasure. This agitation, however, 
hinders the primitive forces from as thorough an objective 
development as takes place in the case of a full stimulation. 
They retain more or less their original conative character, and 
assume the character of the stimuli in a subordinate degree 
only. The primitive forces receive thus a development sui 
generis; a development which, by additional like processes, pro- 
duces modifications possessing predominantly the subjective 
character of the primitive forces, which are of a predominantly 
striving nature. This is substantiated by daily experience. 
After a pleasurable stimulation we feel a desire for a repetition 
of the same. A fine exhibition we desire to see again. A fine 
piece of music we like to hear repeated. A pinch of snuff, a 
piece of tobacco (if once we are pleasurably excited by it), we 
crave again; and if a man has been pleasurably stimulated by 
a certain kind of food or drink, he soon acquires a desire for it. 

This peculiarity is easily explained. The primitive forces 
are conative in their nature. The conative power is spent in 
the conversion of the primitive forces into objective develop- 
ments, by the reception of external stimuli (25). The more 
complete this conversion, the less conative power remains. 
On the other hand, the less complete this conversion, the more 
conative power is retained by the primitive forces. When, 
then, under a pleasurable stimulation (see above) the primitive 



PLEASURABLE STIMULATIONS RESULT IN DESIRES. 65 

forces are only partially modified, it follows that their original 
conative power is but little diminished, and that they still 
strive, as before, after objective development. But now the 
case is somewhat altered. Having been partially modified by 
the stimulants of a special object, their original general cona- 
tion has likewise undergone change. It is now directed into 
a definite channel. From a general conation it has been modi- 
fied into a tending toward stimuli of a special object. In short, 
the original general conative power of the primitive forces has been 
converted into a special desire. Thus it is that mental modifica- 
tions, which originate in pleasurable stimulations, result in 
desires. 

27. How Far the other Modes of Stimulation are 
Capable of Producing Desires. 

An object seen at twilight causes us to strain our eyes to 
perceive it fully. A sound that strikes our ear with insuffi- 
cient loudness, we try to catch wholly. The same is true of 
the other senses, if they are stimulated in an insufficient 
degree. The reason is this : As insufficient stimulations only 
partially satisfy the conative power of the primitive forces, the 
imperfectly employed forces strive for repletion in the same 
direction, and thus special desires originate even from an 
insufficient quantum of external stimuli. But, if we continue 
this kind of stimulation, we soon find that our striving for 
further repletion would cease or become very feeble ; for it is 
a process in which the primary forces are merely imperfectly 
developed, and thus result in invalid and impotent modifica- 
tions, which, no matter how often produced, would neverthe- 
less leave the mind weak and imbecile. 

In the conscious presence of vigorous mental modifications 
they cause an action of the mind, which is termed aversion. 
Of this, however, I shall speak more fully in 34. 

An adequate amount of external stimuli pervades the primitive 
forces thoroughly. It is the most favorable condition under 
which the primitive forces can undergo a definite and complete 
transformation or objective development ; they assume pre- 



6Q THE SPHERE OF CONATION. 

dominantly and permanently the character of. the stimuli, and 
their co-native power is, for the most part, spent in the recep- 
tion of the stimuli. Nevertheless they retain enough of their 
original conative nature as to be still capable of tending toward 
a renewal of the same stimulation. This we find in accordance 
with daily experience; for we w T ant frequently to see and to 
hear again what we have previously observed or heard quietly 
and under the most favorable conditions. Thus far even the 
full stimulation is capable of producing special desires. 

The satiating stimulation must necessarily have the same effect 
at least so far as it is, in its beginning, similar to a pleasur- 
able stimulation. In its highest degree it cannot but cripple 
the primitive forces and their conative powder. Nevertheless, 
when we observe in drunkards and gluttons quite strong 
desires for further dissipations, it is not the satiating stimula- 
tion which they desire. It is a yearning after those pleasurable 
impressions they have enjoyed before their excess amounted to 
a temporary satiety. 

The painful excitation offers the least chance for the forma- 
tion of special desires, because the sudden and excessive influ- 
ence injures the primitive forces to such a degree that their 
conative power is at once paralyzed, and may be even per- 
manently injured. We find, therefore, nobody wdio desires a 
repetition of any process that causes pain. 

In reviewing the different quantitative relations of external 
stimuli, there is none so favorable for the formation of special 
desires as pleasurable stimulation. Under the conditions of 
pleasurable stimulation the inborn conative power of the primi- 
tive forces remains unimpaired, and the primitive forces receive 
a development wdiich comes nearest to the vigorous develop- 
ment of a full stimulation. Still, as the agitation w T hich is 
occasioned by the greater amount of external stimuli hinders 
the primitive forces from a thorough objective development, 
the primitive forces retain their conative nature in a sufficient 
degree to constitute a vigorous striving for a repetition of the 
same influences. In this way the pleasurable stimulation pre- 
sents all the conditions which are favorable for the formation 
of special desires in the most perfect manner. (Compare 33.) 



the act of desiring. 67 

28. The Act of Desiring is at the Same Time an Act of 
Conceiving. — Two Different Forms of Reproduction 
of Pleasurable Modifications. 

Before we can desire a thing, that thing must first have acted 
pleasurably upon us. During a pleasurable stimulation the 
primitive forces retain predominantly their co-native nature, 
but assume also, at the same time, more or less distinctly, 
the character of the stimuli. In the degree in which this latter 
takes place they are converted into vestiges of perceptions. If, 
for instance, a flower has pleasantly acted upon us, the result 
will be not only that we desire to see the flower again, but also 
that we have, at the same time, a more or less distinct concep- 
tion of the flower, because just by this more or less distinct 
objective development the conative power of the primitive 
forces receives its direction to this special object, by which the 
whole act assumes the form of a desire (27). An act of desir- 
ing can, therefore, never exist without an act of conceiving, 
that is, of reproducing a perception (10). Hence one and the 
same mental act (all acts are mental modifications, either 
vestiges or active conscious excitations) is partially a desire 
and partially a conception. It is desire so far as the primitive 
forces have retained their conative power, and it is conception so 
far as they have been converted into vestiges of perception. 
Such a conception will always be of a pleasurable nature, because 
it has originated from a pleasurable stimulation. 

Conception and desire are, therefore, only two different forms 
of one and the same mental act — not at all two different mental 
acts in themselves. Still, it is possible that in the process of 
reproduction the one or the other of these forms may so pre- 
ponderate, that each may appear as an independent or separate 
act. If, for instance, the larger part of the primitive forces is 
converted into vestiges of a perception, the reproduction of 
such modification will be a pleasurable conception or remem- 
brance ; while, on the other hand, if the primitive forces retain 
in greater part their original conative power, the reproduction 
of such modification will have the decided character of 
a desire. Thus we come to the important fact that a pleasurable 



G8 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. 

mental modification is capable of being reproduced in two different 
forms, either as a pleasurable remembrance, or as a distinct desire 
for a similar pleasurable stimulation. 

It is even possible that the one or the other form may gain 
a permanent preponderance. We observe, especially in the 
lower senses, that the pleasurable modifications assume the 
character of desires, because the primitive forces of these senses 
possess by nature a much lower degree of energy than the 
higher senses (8) ; consequently their objective development 
is not so permanent ; they retain more of their inborn conative 
power, which clothes the reproductions with the form of 
desire. 

The higher senses, on the contrary, are characterized by a 
higher degree of energy. They continue to exist more persist- 
ently in that definite change which they have undergone by 
the action of stimuli, and therefore the reproduction of pleas- 
urable modifications assumes predominantly the form of 
pleasurable remembrances. There are, however, a number of 
pleasurable modifications in which both forms of reproduction 
are equally balanced. 

The third form of reproduction — that of feeling — I shall 
speak of more fully in 50. 

29. Similar Desires Coalesce. — Inclination, Propensity, 

Passion. 

We have seen (9, 16, 18 and 20) that the law of attraction 
of like to like exerts its influence in the sphere of cognitions. 
We shall see its influence equally great in all conative modifica- 
tions. Striking illustrations of this fact are not scarce. Recall 
instances of the miserable victims of opium and whiskey ! Their 
desires grow with the use of these poisons, until those desires 
are irresistible. Quick, indeed, grow 7 all desires founded in the 
low r er senses ; for these senses, on account of their low degree of 
energy, are much more apt to produce desires, as we have shown 
in the last paragraph. Frequent repetition in a short time 
swells them to formidable magnitude. Desires also grow T 
in the higher senses by repetition of pleasurable stimulations. 



INFLUENCE OF THE QUALITIES OF THE PRIMITIVE FORCES. 69 

We see this fact verified in enthusiasts for music, painting, 
etc., in all sort of queer geniuses who ride their hobbies. The 
miser even belongs in this category. From continued pleas- 
urable stimulations their desires grow stronger and stronger, 
until they attain a leading control over all other mental 
modifications. All this goes to show that similar desires coalesce 
as do similar perceptions, thus originating in the soul those 
multiplex conative modifications, which, in the language of 
common life, are designated by the terms inclination, propen- 
sity, passion. 

30. Influence of the Qualities of the Primitive Forces 
Upon the Formation of Desires. 

The nature of desires consists of the preponderance of 
the conative power in the primitive forces, which conative 
power remains the stronger the less firmly the primitive forces 
undergo an objective development. A high degree of tenacity 
favors the latter, and so far it is not favorable to the formation 
of desires. 

This assertion agrees fully with the general observation, that 
most desires originate in senses possessing less energy — the 
lower senses. Yet, on the other hand, how could inclinations 
and even passions be produced, if it were not, as we have seen 
in the last paragraph, that single similar desires were held 
together and retained as vestiges? 

Without that power none of these multiplex conative forma- 
tions would ever originate, and we may measurably witness 
this if we observe idiots and animals. In both the energy of the 
primitive forces is of a low grade; and, therefore, although both 
of them unmistakably form a great many desires and even 
inclinations that are definitely determined toward this or an- 
other object or person, the desires and inclinations do not 
attain to real passions— that multiplex aggregate of similar 
desires which, by a sufficient degree of inherent energy, grows 
to that conative power of the mind which overcomes the great- 
est difficulties. 

Thus we see that, although a very high degree of energy is not 



70 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. 

favorable for the formation of desires, a certain degree of energy is 
nevertheless indispensable for the formation of inclinations and 
passions. 

2. Tlieir acuteness or sensitiveness. 

Another condition for the formation of desires is a pleasur- 
able stimulation of the primitive forces (25, 26). The higher the 
degree of acuteness, the less external stimuli are required to 
affect the primitive forces (5). Consequently a high degree of 
acuteness must be exceedingly favorable for the formation of desires. 
This point we find everywhere corroborated by experience. 
One possessing a fine taste is easily pleasurably excited by the 
addition of a very small quantity of condiments to his food ; 
while another, possessing dull taste, requires much larger 
amounts of pepper and mustard. To a fine ear soft music 
may cause great pleasurable excitation. The dull ear requires 
the sound of drums and trumpets to become in any way 
aroused, etc. In short, there is no doubt that a greater amount 
of acuteness of the primitive forces causes pleasurable excita- 
tions easily ; and, as these are the foundation of desires (9), 
it is evident that a high degree of acuteness of the 'primitive forces 
is very favorable for the formation of desires. 

3. Their vivacity. 

A higher degree of this quality causes a livelier activity 
of the soul throughout. In this general way desires are 
likewise favorably affected by it. Slow forces are not only 
slow in perceiving, but also slow in striving. It is in the 
sanguine temperament that we find lively desires most promi- 
nently developed; while the phlegmatic, whose primitive 
forces are wanting in acuteness and vivacity, is scarcely ever 
aroused to passion. 

31. External Stimuli and Primitive Forces as Mobile 

Elements. 

A. All psychical modifications hitherto considered (percep- 
tion, concept, judgment, inference, desire, inclination, pro- 
pensity, passion) are products of primitive forces and stimuli. 
By the latter we are continualby surrounded. Stimuli are 



EXTERNAL STIMULI AND PRIMITIVE FORCES. /I 

emitted from all objects external to the soul, and even from our 
own body. Stimuli stream upon us from all sides. These 
stimuli, into the nature of which we will inquire later, we 
shall designate as the first class of mobile elements, because in 
reality they are different modes of motion (78). 

B. Every night at a certain hour we experience a regularly 
recurring diminution of our sensorial faculties. We do not see 
nor hear as clearly as we did through the day. The eyelids 
shut and the hearing is blunted. It is true, an extra excite- 
ment may rouse us again into full activity for a certain time, 
but finally exhausted nature yields. There is no substitute for 
sleep. After sleep we again see, hear, think, wish, will, etc., as 
briskly and as vigorously as before. What, then, is it that 
has been exhausted through the day and restored by sleep? 
As seeing, hearing, etc., are mental acts by which primitive 
forces are modified (2, 3, 4), and thereby are constantly 
consumed, it is these primitive forces w T hich have become 
exhausted through the day's work; and, as after sleep all 
mental functions again revive to vigorous activity, to what 
else could it be referred than to a restoration of the primitive 
forces? Sleep, then, is a condition necessary for the restoration 
of consumed primitive forces. Of this process, however, I shall 
speak more fully in 99. At present it is sufficient to 
note that such restoration actually takes place during sleep, 
and we shall likewise call these newly-restored primitive forces 
mobile elements; because, so long as they are not objectively 
developed by external stimuli (that is, so long as they have not 
been transformed into fixed vestiges), they are free, capable 
of entering into any combination which corresponds to their 
general character. This is, then, the second class of mobile 
elements, namely, the newly-formed primitive forces. 

C. If it were possible that the reception of external stimuli 
(the processes of seeing, hearing, etc.) could take place without 
primitive forces, or by some mental modifications already 
formed ; and moreover, if it were possible that consciousness 
could be kept active without other aid than that of vestiges 
(which in fact, as we have seen in 10, are, on account of their 
aggregate nature, the very ground of all consciousness), it 



72 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. 

would be entirely superfluous to have a period of rest like 
that of sleep, in which new primitive forces could be produced. 
But this is not so. External stimuli have no effect upon the 
soul unless they are received by free primitive forces (4), which 
are thereby converted into vestiges. Such conversion continu- 
ally decreases the number of primitive forces; and that is the 
reason why after a day's work our capability to see and to 
hear, etc., is diminished in a corresponding degree. Conscious 
excitation also can only be kept up by means of mobile ele- 
ments (9, 13). 

Now, it is an incontrovertible fact of experience, that so long 
as we are awake and have not shut our eyes, there are ele- 
ments of light flowing into the mind constantly without neces- 
sarily forming special perceptions. We are conscious of seeing, 
but are not always conscious of what we see, thus showing that 
the external stimuli do not always excite their corresponding 
vestiges into a conscious state. Hence, it follows that this un- 
conscious reception must take place entirely by free or empty 
primitive forces. Aye, even more, as from such unconscious 
reception conscious modifications seldom result, it follows that 
the stimuli leave no distinct vestiges, and consequently that 
the action of such stimuli is not attended by a perfect trans- 
formation of the primitive forces. 

The same is true with regard to the sense of hearing. How 
many different sounds and noises, of which I am not conscious 
in the least, enter my ear ! If I remember some of them after- 
ward in a faint manner, it proves only that they have been 
received, but not that the primitive forces have been thereby 
actually converted into distinct vestiges. 

This is equally true of all other senses. We may say: 
External stimuli are continually acting upon all classes of primi- 
tive forces, but do not always give rise to distinct and fixed modifica- 
tions. Nevertheless such action cannot be without some effect; 
for, although the primitive forces are not converted by the 
general stimuli into fixed forms, the primitive forces undergo 
some change — assume to some extent the character of the 
stimuli. We may consider the changes noted as partially 
modified forces. As such they retain their mobility, and obtain 



OFFICE AND USE OF THE MOBILE ELEMENTS. 73 

at the same time a general tendency toward modifications 
which have been developed by similar stimuli. These par- 
tially modified primitive forces constitute the third, class of 
mobile elements. 

We have thus three classes of mobile elements: 1, external 
stimuli; 2, free primitive forces ; and 3, partially modified primi- 
tive forces. 

32. Office and Use of the Mobile Elements. 

We have partially touched upon this subject in 12 and 13. 
In those sections we have seen that external elements always 
and necessarily find their similar vestiges and excite them into 
consciousness ; and also that free primitive forces flow to other 
objective modifications, and cause the latter to become conscious. 
We may trace this process still further. Why is it that the 
first fine spring day exercises such a charm upon every one ? 
It is because the charms of the day yield so many pleasurable 
external stimuli. These stimuli spread, as mobile elements, 
over a large number of similar pleasurable modifications 
already existing, excite them into consciousness, and thus cause 
that peculiarly exalted state of the mind. It is not only that 
the beauty of nature causes a pleasurable excitation of its own, 
but that beauty excites at the same time a number of other 
pleasurable modifications — perhaps remembrances of olden, 
happy times — and is thus the cause of a much higher elevation 
of the mind than a mere pleasurable excitation could produce 
of itself. 

Let me submit another example. I sit quietly in my room, 
reading or writing, or doing something else, in the usual quiet 
way. I receive a letter. I open it; I read it, and the further 
I read the more eager and restless I grow. Finally, I find 
myself in a turmoil of thought. Why is this ? Surely it can- 
not be an abundance of external stimuli coming from the let- 
ter. What I see is mere paper and figures written upon it. 
But these figures excite mental modifications composed of 
numerous elements — of the conception of a dear old friend, or 
of an urgent business, or of some other important matter thus 
6 



74 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. 

conveyed. Whatever the cause be, the mental modifications 
that have been aroused by the letter must consist of numerous 
elements, which elements, being in close connection with other 
modifications, likewise excite them into consciousness. In the 
same manner one word may sometimes cause an excitation of 
the mind wholly inexplicable, were it not for the mobile 
elements which start from that word and diffuse all around, 
exciting into consciousness numbers of ideas intimately 
connected with it. It is here that the partially modified forces 
come into play. They are drawn into the excitement, and, 
being of a general character, flow to those latent agencies 
which, by former associations, are the most intimately con- 
nected with the first, and thus cause a commotion of ideas. 
This perturbation may take place independently of our wish or 
desire. 

If one excites into consciousness the conception of a steeple, 
consciousness does not remain confined to the steeple alone, 
but gradually spreads to the whole building of which the 
steeple is a part. Or, I say : Two times two is — ; six and 
six is — ; Philadelphia lies between — ; and I know that all in 
whom the knowledge of the answers exists will at once supply 
the predicates. Similarity, the mobile elements, which are 
here partially modified forces, flow constantly from one modifi- 
cation to another, either similar or connected by previous 
simultaneous presence in consciousness, and stimulate these 
modifications into consciousness. 

But free primitive forces are also mobile elements. They, 
too, are capable of moving from one modification to another; 
but, as they are of a conative nature, they naturally join with 
such modifications as are the most similar to them, or such 
as are predominantly of the same character, like all desires, 
inclinations and passions. Thus results voluntary excita- 
tion into consciousness. But it is otherwise when we 
want to recollect something. Be it, for example, a name that 
we once knew, and wish to recall. What was that name? 
Perhaps the mere wish brings it at once to the mind. At 
other times it requires greater effort ; and sometimes it appears 
as though the name had been entirely wiped out of memory. 



OFFICE AND USE OF THE MOBILE ELEMENTS. 75 

What was that name? We make all sorts of combinations. 
Him ley? No I Hemmit? No! 0, well, that prince of Denmark 
of whom Shakespeare wrote a drama ! Hamneit? No ! Hemlot? 
Neither ! But similar. There it comes ! Hamlet is the name ! 

It is clear that if we had just seen or heard that name, that 
is, had external stimuli been present, we would have known 
the name at once, without the necessity of searching for it ; 
but just then the external stimuli were wanting, and hence we 
had to make an exertion (that is, by means of conative forces, we 
had to hunt for it), and finally, after several failures, we found it. 
This is an experience of every-day occurrence. We come then 
to the resulting rule : That not only external stimuli and par- 
tially modified forces excite mental modifications into {involuntary) 
consciousness; but, also, that free primitive forces arouse latent 
agencies into {voluntary) consciousness. So soon as these stimula- 
ting elements depart, the now conscious modifications sink again into 
delitescence. We see then that it is by means of the mobile 
elements that the constant change between conscious and 
unconscious modifications takes place ; and that the activity of 
our soul is carried on during our waking state and sometimes 
even during sleep, in the form of dreams. We may define this 
process as follows : Mobile elements are constantly flowing from one 
mental modification to another, and thus cause a continual transmu- 
tation of mental modifications, from delitescence into conscious exci- 
tation, and vice versa. This fundamental process, which indeed 
constitutes the activity of the soul, we call the diffusion of mobile 
elements, and we will find this process (if we stop a moment 
for reflection) acting with equal force throughout the whole 
exterior world. " Corpora non agunt nisi fluida" and only 
through fluids motion exists. This process lowers mountains 
and lifts up the depths of the sea. It warms again the freezing 
atmosphere, and cools down its scorching heat. From the 
oceans it waters the parching land, and from thence it sends 
back again what feeds the sea. 

The same process regulates the intimate connection between 
mind and body. Lightly and more energetically are moved 
muscles and bones when joyful tidings vibrate through the 
soul ; while, on the contrary, even the mind's energy suffers 



76 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. 

under the influence of bodily pain. It is, indeed, a process 
universally acting and important; and, although we cannot 
observe the mobile elements themselves as they move from 
vestige to vestige (because they are unconscious elements), we 
see the effect of their action. Neither do w T e observe the con- 
tinual motion of the fluid elements of our bodies, and yet such 
motion, notwithstanding our inability to observe it, is an un- 
ceasing reality. Another question is : How, by reason of the 
fluid nature of these elements, can uniform regularity be pro- 
duced in their office to excite and to withdraw consciousness? 
Of this further investigations will bring full explanation. 
(Compare 39, 99.) 

33. Strong and Weak Modifications. 

I shall, under this section, repeat some observations partly 
considered in 25, in order to gain a basis for further investi- 
gations. 

We know an insufficient stimulation causes, at best, indistinct 
perceptions, shadowy, feeble modifications, which modifi- 
cations (although at the time of the stimulation possessed 
of a faint striving for complete excitation) soon lose this ten- 
sion, and remain imperfect modifications, with a feeling of non- 
satisfaction. Thousands of such imperfect modifications, even 
united, would not be able to produce one single sound and 
perfect modification, because each imperfect modification 
bears the character of intrinsic debility, and debility added 
to debility can never result in strength. 

We know further that a satiating stimulation causes disgust 
and loathing, because the primitive forces, in consequence of 
the unceasing irritation of full or abundant external stim- 
uli, become tired and worn out. Such excitations must 
necessarily modify the primitive forces in an objective man- 
ner; but as the quantum of external stimuli grows gradu- 
ally too great and overwhelms the primitive forces by de- 
grees — covers them, as it were, with an aftergrowth — the 
satiating stimulation produces mental modifications likewise 
of a morbid, debilitated character. 



STRONG AND WEAK MODIFICATIONS. 77 

Painful stimulations weaken the primitive forces suddenly. 
The products of such stimuli bear decidedly the character of 
debility. 

We see, then, that each of these quantitative relations (the insuffi- 
cient, satiating, and painful stimulations) produce mental modifica- 
tions distinguished by a character of debility, and, at the same time, 
of pain (if we allow the term pain, in its widest sense, to embrace 
non-satisfaction and loathing). These debilitated modifications 
continue to exist, like all other modifications, as latent agencies, 
and in them the weakness of a developed mind has its original 
foundation, as we shall learn hereafter. 

An altogether different result is produced by full stimulations. 
The immediate feeling of satisfaction attending them shows 
a gain in strength and perfection. Under such a condition 
the primitive forces, by reason of an adequate amount of 
external stimuli, have received a complete objective devel- 
opment, giving proof that the mind gains in strength and 
perfection in the same degree as the primitive forces are 
developed by full and adequate stimulations. 

A somewhat similar result is observed from pleasurable stimu- 
lations. Under the influence of pleasurable stimuli the 
quantum of external stimuli does not weaken the primitive 
forces, but stimulates them to a higher tension, manifest in the 
greater conative power with which pleasurably-modified forces 
strive for other similar stimulations. We gain thereby men- 
tal modifications of a two-fold nature. First : Modifications of 
the nature of pleasurable perceptions, proportionally as the 
primitive forces have been fully converted into vestiges. 
These, no doubt, we must consider as strong modifications. 
Secondly: Modifications of the nature of desires, proportionate 
to the higher agitation by which the primitive forces have 
been prevented from securing a thorough objective develop- 
ment. These must be considered as weak modifications, 
because they consist of imperfectly developed primitive forces. 
The result of our inquiry is: The human soul acquires 
strength or weakness according as its primitive forces are 
modified and developed by different modes of stimulation. 
These forces are strengthened so far as they undergo a 



78 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. 

thorough objective development; they remain weak, or are 
weakened, if this development is frustrated by an unfavorable 
(either insufficient or superabundant) stimulation. 

34. Repugnancies, Aversion, Repulsion, Resistance. 

We have an aversion to being stung by a bee. A child 
shows repulsion when compelled to take bitter medicine. The 
self-conceited resists a reproach, even if that reproach be just. 
In all cases we have a striving, yet not a striving for but 
against something. How does this mental condition originate? 

When a bee comes flying about your head threatening to 
sting, you become conscious (from previous similar experience) 
of the pain such a sting would cause. This conception of pain 
is called up during a state of mind free from pain — a state 
consisting of conscious modifications, which, compared with 
the pain that a bee-sting would produce, are of a pleasurable 
character. In short, in the midst of modifications of strength 
there is suddenly awakened a modification of debility. Both 
are related to the well-being of your person, both are therefore 
quite similar, but the one is the product of full or adequate, 
the other of painful stimulations. On the one hand, then, 
we have primitive forces perfectly developed ; on the other 
primitive forces imperfectly developed. Either of them, to be 
kept in consciousness, require mobile elements; and, as im- 
perfectly developed forces largely retain their original conative 
power (if they have not been totally crippled), they largely 
attract the existing elements, which thus are withdrawn from 
the perfectly developed modifications. This sudden with- 
drawal causes in return a revival of conative power in the per- 
fect modifications, and consequently a striving in the direction 
of the withdrawn elements, or against those modifications which 
cause this withdrawal. Such counter -striving we feel when 
a bee threatens to sting, and it is called a repulsion. 

In the case of a child showing repugnance to taking bitter 
medicine, the same process occurs. To the modification of feel- 
ing comparatively well, the sight of the medicine excites, on 
account of former similar experiences, a feeling of loathing. 



, REPUGNANCE, AVERSION, REPULSION, RESISTANCE. 79 

This is a modification of debility, and, as such, withdraws the 
mobile forces from the modification of strength — namely, the 
child's feeling of comparative ease. This sudden withdrawal 
of mobile elements causes in return the modifications of 
strength to regain part of their original conative power, and 
they react against that conception of loathing and repel the 
medicine. 

A similar process occurs when a self-conceited man is re- 
proached. A conceited man's conception of his own worth is 
exceedingly strong. A reproach excites a conception of him- 
self that is anything but flattering. The conception of worth 
is antagonized by the conception of worthlessness. The 
"worthless" conception withdraws the abundant mobile ele- 
ments from the man's conception of his own worth, leaving 
the latter free of its ordinary stimulation, and consequently 
his desire for self flattering stimuli makes more manifest their 
absence. The original conation — concept of worth — resists 
reproach. 

In order, then, to produce an aversion or repugnance, it is 
necessary that two diverse modifications should rise simultaneously 
to consciousness — a modification of strength and a modification of 
debility. This process causes the mobile elements to flow from 
the former to the latter, and quickly converts the strong modi- 
fication into one of conation, and the conative force defends 
itself against the loss of stimuli involved in the process, thus 
engendering a counter-effect — a repugnance. 

We must, however, go still more into detail to become fully 
familiarized with this mental process. In the first place, it is 
not sufficient that any two diverse mental modifications, one 
of strength and one of debility, be roused together into con- 
sciousness. They must be similar ; that is, must bear a relation to 
the same or at least a similar object. If I have acquired, for ex- 
ample, correct modifications of a piece of music, these modifi- 
cations will cause a repugnance if I hear that piece of music 
faultily played; but these particular modifications do not 
enable me to repel against orthographical errors. Vice versa, 
if I have acquired the rules of orthography, but have no correct 
musical modifications, faulty or poor play would not provoke 



80 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. 

my aversion, while an incorrectly written letter would. The 
repugnance to a mistake is felt only when the correct expres- 
sion rises into consciousness. In short, two diverse modifica- 
tions, roused at the same time into consciousness, must be 
similar in order to produce an aversion. 

Secondly. The striving against, as we observe in aversion, 
etc., is, in fact, of the same nature as the striving toward in 
desires of which we have spoken. It is the same manifestation 
of conative action of the primitive forces toward existing ele- 
ments, only with the difference that the striving is not directed 
toward elements external to itself, as in desires ; but toward 
the immediate loss which the modification of strength sustains 
by the attraction of the mobile elements to the modification 
of debility, a striving naturally assuming a direction against 
that modification which causes this loss. 

In the mental modifications of fear, anguish, terror, etc., 
there are usually several modifications of debility simulta- 
neously roused in consciousness, so that the modifications of 
strength, conscious at the same time, lose a considerable portion 
of mobile elements. If the mental modifications of strength 
develop sufficient conative power to resist those losses, there 
will result a repulsion against the modifications of debility. If, 
however, there is no modification of sufficient strength to resist 
and stop this sudden flow of mobile elements, there will, of 
course, be no repulsion, but the mobile elements will spread 
further and further, to bodily functions even, and cause 
screaming, crying, trembling and convulsions. 

Thirdly. The process of diffusion of the mobile elements is 
rarely confined to the modifications of strength and debility 
causing the phenomena in question. On the contrary, all that 
is mobile in the soul partakes of the motion, and excites such 
modifications as have been previously conjoined by simulta- 
neous presence in consciousness ; and thus it is, that when a 
bee threatens to sting, we feel not merely an aversion to being 
stung, but are at the same time aroused to defend ourselves. 
So is the child by the sight of the bitter medicine aroused to 
actual resistance against taking it ; and the self-conceited may, 
if reproach be offered, resort even to a kind of defence that 



PAINFUL EMOTIONS. 81 

would not meet the approbation of gentlemen. We see thus, 
that the process of diffusion of mobile elements is not confined 
to the modifications of strength and debility which have given 
rise to it, but that it spreads all around ; that is, draws into 
excitation all such modifications as have previously been 
conjoined by their simultaneous presence in consciousness. 
Consequently we find explained the fact that the mere aver- 
sion combines at once with those other mental modifications 
which present the means of resisting the continued action of 
this special modification of debility. 

Lastly. We find that when the process of diffusion is at an 
end and all is quiet again, the diverse modifications which 
caused it, still continue to exist as they did before. The self- 
conceited holds the same high opinion of himself; the child 
is not in the least changed as regards his disliking bitter 
medicine; and we may feel just as well after the threatening 
bee has gone as we did before its approach. This fact shows 
clearly that the mental modifications which caused this com- 
motion by their simultaneous presence in consciousness, were 
not themselves dissolved during that process, but that the 
lively agitation consisted only in a shifting of mobile ele- 
ments. The free primitive forces take part in the process only 
so far as they join to modifications of strength, thus aug- 
menting the power of striving against, or resisting, that which 
affects us unpleasantly. 

35. Repugnancies are Frequently Attended with Pain, 
and are then more violent than usual. — painful 
Emotions. 

Fits of anger, vexation, indignation, mortification, etc., are 
frequently attended by pain. Why are such emotions attended 
with a painful feeling? Let us take for an example the self- 
conceited. In him those mental modifications which have en- 
gendered an overweening conception of his own worth, have 
grown to considerable strength. They are modifications of a 
pleasurable character, replete with pleasurable elements. Let 
some one come and tell him that he is an utterly worthless 



82 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. 

fellow in a certain respect — the respect in which he imagines 
himself to excel — and the consequence will be a painful emo- 
tion of anger and mortification. Why is this emotion painful? 
Because we have, in the case cited, on the one hand, modifica- 
tions replete with pleasurable elements, and, on the other 
hand, a modification so destitute of these elements that the 
numerous mobile elements of the first rush, according to the 
law of diffusion, so overwhelmingly to the latter, that they 
act like an overdose, and cause a painful stimulation in the 
same w T ay as any other sudden and overwhelming external in- 
fluence would produce pain at any time. This explains also 
the great violence of action against the intruding mental modi- 
fication of debility, with which such a process is accompanied. 
The diffusive process is sudden and extensive. Therefore, 
many of the primitive forces, previously developed by pleasur- 
able stimulation, are quickly converted into their original 
conative nature. This conversion must produce a lively 
repulsion of the weakening influence. We find, therefore, 
that a child commences to scream and kick if a favorite play- 
thing is suddenly taken from it, and adults resent interference 
w r ith their favorite inclinations in a more dignified way. 

Thus it is that in the degree in which a mental modification is 
replete with pleasurable elements, and thereby is made sharply antag- 
onistic to a similar mental modification destitute of these elements, 
their simultaneous presence in consciousness causes a more painful 
sensation by the process of diffusion; causing, in short, a more violent 
resistance and painful emotion. 

Such is not the case with the majority of aversions hourly 
originating in the soul. They leave us comparatively quiet. 
We merely go away from a place we dislike. We quietly 
correct the errors we find our pupils have made in speaking 
or writing. We patiently seek what we have lost, etc. 

36. Similar Aversions Coalesce. 

Like unites with like (9). This law also exerts its influence in 
the case of aversions. The first rough treatment of a child by 
the nurse causes a painful modification, which, with the simul- 



THE FORMATION OF AVERSIONS. 83 

taneous remembrance of the mother's kind treatment, creates 
the first aversion to the nurse. A repetition of the same treat- 
ment causes the same effect, and, both being similar, unite as 
such. In this way the first simple aversion in a short time 
grows, by repetition, into a strong repugnance to the nurse. Or, 
let us suppose that we had been disagreeably affected by the 
howling of a dog, and that in consequence an aversion to noise 
has originated. Let this be joined by the sounds of cats, 
owls, etc., and, provided that their first effect has been dis- 
agreeable, a repugnance to this discord (even an abhorrence 
of it) will be the inevitable result. This need not, however, 
necessarily be the case ; for we find persons not in the least 
painfully affected by such sounds, who never show, therefore, 
an aversion to them. We have thus an example of those 
seemingly contradictory conditions, in which it is found that 
certain persons detest a thing which others, perhaps, desire, or, 
at least, are indifferent to. It is the disagreeable or painful in- 
fluence a thing has exerted upon the mind, and the frequent 
repetition of such influence, that creates aversions and makes 
them grow to repugnance and detestation. Life presents 
many instances of this fact. 

37. The Influence of the Qualities of the Primitive 
Forces upon the Formation of Aversions. 

It will be found that in the discussion of this question we 
shall arrive at the same results as have been noted in 29, in 
considering the influence of the different qualities of the 
primitive forces upon the formation of desires. 

Since aversions can only originate when modifications of 
strength and debility exist in the human soul, it is clear that 
all that favors the development of these elements will likewise 
favor the formation of aversions. The most influential quality 
of the primitive forces, however, in this respect, is acuteness. 
Where acuteness exists in a high degree, even a moderate 
amount of external stimuli produces full stimulation and, a 
little more, pleasurable stimulation. Just as easily do satiating 
and painful stimulations arise under its influence. Varying 



84 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. 

degrees of stimulation are the exact conditions required for the 
formation of energetic, as well as feeble, mental modifications 
(33), and consequently of aversions (34). 

However, for the origination of aversions it is likewise neces- 
sary that the diffusion of mobile elements should take place 
rapidly, and this rapidity depends on the degree of vivacity 
with which the primitive forces are endowed. The phlegmatic 
individual is just as slow informing aversions as he is in form- 
ing desires, while the sanguine is alike quick in originat- 
ing both. 

The energy of the primitive forces may be said to be, to a 
certain degree, rather unfavorable to the formation of aver- 
sions, inasmuch as primitive forces with a high degree of this 
quality, hold fast what they receive, thus limiting the amount 
of mobile elements. On the other hand, however, if such acts 
of resistance did not remain as vestiges, we could never attain 
to repugnance and abhorrence in the aggregates of single simi- 
lar aversions. The fact is, under the circumstances stated, 
just what it has been stated to be elsewhere, in regard to the 
formation of notions, passions, etc., viz : Only by preservation 
and accumulation can single mental acts grow into compound 
and powerful ones — desires as well as aversions. This truth is 
illustrated in cases of idiots and animals. Neither idiots nor 
animals, on account of the want of the requisite energy in their 
primitive forces, ever attain to the deeper grades of passion 
and detestation we find in the human being. 

38. Good and Evil. 

Pleasurable stimulations produce desires (26), and the object 
causing such stimulations we consider good, that is, a some- 
thing capable of promoting our well-being in some way or 
other. As an illustration : The traveling facilities by railroad 
and steamboat are a public good, and are everywhere desired 
by people who know their advantages by experience. Coffee 
is considered good by those whom it has pleasurably excited. 
Anything grows more and more in favor as it is capable of 
causing pleasurable stimulations. In short, w T e may say, what- 






GOOD AND EVIL. 85 

ever has the ability and opportunity of exciting us pleasurably, we 
consider as something good, and we strive to obtain it. We desire 
the good so long as we do not possess it. Possession of the good, 
however, appeases our desire, because then the primitive forces 
are constantly acted upon by the object at hand. 

A pleasurable modification loses thus the character of de- 
sire by the possession of the desired object, and, instead of it, 
gains the predominant character of a pleasurable conception. 
(Compare 28.) 

It happens now and then that we desire an object which, 
as yet, has not had an opportunity of causing pleasurable 
stimulation of our primitive forces. For instance, a child 
may be anxious to obtain a pineapple without ever having 
previously been pleasurably affected by eating one. In some 
there may be an intense desire to see foreign countries, with- 
out ever having personally received any pleasurable impres- 
sions from them. Still others may burn with a desire to hear 
a renowned composer's new opera — an opera as yet unknown 
to them. Now, how is it possible that we can desire things 
that have not excited us pleasurably ? 

In these instances we shall, by close examination, come to 
nearly the same result as already set forth. When a child 
desires a pineapple, it has already received many pleasurable 
impressions from other fruits. Seeing or being told that the 
pineapple is also a delicious fruit, the pleasurable impressions 
from other delicious fruits act as a substitute for the yet un- 
known pleasurable impressions of this fruit, and thus origi- 
nates a desire for it. In the case of a desire to see foreign 
countries, there exist already pleasurable stimulations from 
beautiful scenery already visited, or from descriptions of 
travelers, which, on account of their similarity, lend their 
conative force to the more miraculous spectacles imagined to 
lie in foreign countries. The same holds good when we desire 
to hear the new opera of a renowned composer, because, as his 
former productions have already excited us pleasurably, we 
do not expect anything else than pleasure from his latest 
work. We come, then, to the conclusion that we may desire a 
thing, or consider it as good, even though that supposed good has 
not yet had a chance to make a pleasurable impression upon us. 



8G THE SPHERE OF CONATION. 

It is on account of the similarity the conceived object has with 
other objects from which we actually experience pleasure, that we form 
desires. Imagining that the unknown thing will create similar or 
greater pleasurable impressions, the conative force of the acquired 
pleasurable modifications is substituted for the yet unacquired. 

So soon as a thing exercises an unpleasant impression upon 
our primitive forces, which may be caused either by an in- 
sufficient, satiating or painful stimulation, there originates 
a mental modification of debility (33), and in consequence of 
this, if the necessary conditions are fulfilled (34), an aversion 
results. All that excites us unpleasantly, that causes a debili- 
tating effect upon us, we not only do not desire, but shun and 
strive against. We consider it an evil, a something which im- 
pairs our happiness or prosperity in some way or other. In 
this sense we consider sickness in general an evil ; fire and 
water only so far as they cause damages by their destructive 
power; but good, in so far as they promote our happiness 
and prosperity. Many things may be considered by some as 
good, while others may shun the same things as great evils. 
It depends entirely upon the manner in which things affect 
us, whether they cause pleasurable or painful stimulations. 

Full stimulations cause, as we have seen in 11, clear per- 
ceptions, or conceptions, when reproduced in consciousness, 
and constitute so firm a transformation of the primitive forces 
by external stimuli, that only a small portion of the primitive 
forces regains its conative power. Therefore, little chance is 
given for the formation of either desires or aversions (27). 

We consider things which cause full stimulations, generally 
speaking, neither as good nor as evil. However, as full 
stimulations perfectuate the mind, enrich it with new per- 
ceptions and ideas, the objects which are competent to produce 
this result assume the nature of good, and as there is no line 
of demarcation between full and pleasurable stimulations, we 
can hardly make a marked distinction between the objects 
causing them. They will be desired inasmuch, at least, as 
they enrich our knowledge, and thus become a real good for 
the inquiring mind. 



groups and series. 87 

39. Unlike Mental Modifications Unite into Groups 

and Series. 

The union of like with like has been treated of in 9, 10, 15, 
20. The union of unlike mental modifications into groups 
and series I shall now demonstrate. 

So soon as we hear the word " tree " there rises into con- 
sciousness, in all who hear it and understand its meaning, a 
whole group of totally distinct things, namely : Roots, trunk, 
branches, twigs, leaves, bark, etc. What we understand by 
the term " house " is a combination of quite different things 
in one group, namely : Walls, windows, doors, roof, chim- 
ney, parlor, kitchen, etc. Again, the mentioning of your 
sister's, brother's, or father's name, will at once excite into 
consciousness corresponding groups of quite diverse mental 
modifications, showing that in the human soul unlike modifications 
united in groups really do exist. It is of importance, therefore, 
to consider the means and processes by which such union of 
unlike mental modifications into groups is effected. 

When we see a tree we observe, as said before, different 
things united. Roots, trunk, branches, leaves, etc., make up 
the tree. In perceiving a tree, then, we perceive a group 
of things, all at the same time, or, at least, in quick succes- 
sion, and ever afterward in the same combination. These 
groups exist, therefore, in the external world. As such they 
are perceived and made the property of the mind. Still, 
this illustration does not explain the means by which these 
diverse objects are kept together in the mind. We must, in 
order to understand how this is done, go back and recall the 
existence and office of mobile elements (constantly flowing from 
mental modification to mental modification, and thus causing 
the ever-changing stream of consciousness, as we have demon- 
strated in 31 and 32). When, therefore, a group of unlike 
things (as we find presented when viewing a tree) is excited 
into consciousness simultaneously, or in quick succession, such 
excitation into consciousness is performed through the medium 
of mobile elements, which pervade the whole act. Now, the 
question arises: What becomes of these mobile elements 



88 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. 

after they have set in motion these several different percep- 
tions? Do they stay in combination with the perceptions, or 
do they again disassociate? Experience teaches that both 
combination and disassociation take place, namely : Inasmuch 
as these groups sink into delitescence, to a certain extent the 
mobile elements must have disassociated; and inasmuch as we 
find, on again recalling the several perceptions, the different 
perceptions clinging together, to that extent these elements 
must have adhered to the perceptions; must have bound 
the different mental modifications together ; must have served 
as a connecting medium between them. This explana- 
tion is in accordance with the universal law of nature : Every 
effect endures so long as it is not modified or changed by 
adverse influences. In short, the connecting medium remains 
likewise as a vestige, and is multiplied with each act of repe- 
tition, thus growing stronger and stronger, and combining 
the several dissimilar perceptions or conceptions firmer and 
firmer to each other, so that filially a lasting union of these hetero- 
geneous modifications is established, in consequence of which they 
always rise conjointly into consciousness. These connecting 
vestiges are, therefore, latent agencies which pre-establish the 
possibility of the occurrence of future simultaneous conscious- 
ness of whole groups of dissimilar mental modifications. 

Beneke calls them " Weckungsangelegtheiten, ,> for which I 
know of no corresponding term in the English language. The 
term means provision for future excitations into consciousness. 

The number of associations of dissimilar mental modifica- 
tions in groups are very numerous in all human souls, because 
any object which we see (for our perception) is always of a 
complex character. Even the elementary gold we per- 
ceive is something that is yellow, hard, heavy, etc. As 
often as such an object is perceived, its several constitu- 
ents are overspread and pervaded by the existing mobile ele- 
ments, and as a portion of those elements adhere, the dis- 
similar perceptions become connected into permanent groups. 
Thus it happens that such groups exist to quite a considerable 
extent in the human soul, and that they sometimes consist of 
the most heterogeneous and oddest combinations. Superstition 



GROUPS AND SERIES. 89 

imagines the devil as a being of human figure, with horns, a 
tail, and horse's feet. A remembrance of Frederick II. in some 
people excites regularly the ideas of a queue and a cane. If we 
furthermore find combined (and regularly) the object and its 
name, few only consider that these are perceptions which 
mostly have had their origin in different senses; that they, 
therefore, are groups of entirely dissimilar mental modifica- 
tions. The conception of a tree originates in the sense of 
sight, while the name "tree" has its origin in the sense of 
hearing. What we read, that is, perceive by the sense of sight, 
excites mental modifications which we have heard, and then, 
again, conceptions which originally may have had their origin 
in any of the other senses. Similarly, musical notes, which we 
see, excite conceptions of sounds we only could have acquired 
by hearing ; and if the smell of a rose excites into consciousness 
the figure, form, and color of a rose, and the taste of an apple 
its form and shape, we see clearly that the most dissimilar 
mental modifications may become connected into groups by 
mobile elements. There is nothing else required for the 
formation of such groups but the simultaneous presence in 
consciousness of the several mental modifications, and their 
permeation by mobile elements, which elements at the same 
time excite and unite them. 

But whole series of mental modifications may thus originate 
in the soul. Any sentence, poem, tale, we have learned by 
heart, is proof of it. But here the conjoining of the several 
constituents does not take place simultaneously, as in the case 
of the formation of groups ; because a series of perceptions can- 
not rise into consciousness at once, but only by a successive 
presentation of its parts. Thus the mobile elements spread 
only successively over the several mental modifications in the 
order in which they follow each other in consciousness, and 
conjoin them in this order, forming thus a continuity within 
a whole series of various mental modifications. Each repeti- 
tion makes this continuity firmer by the formation of new 
vestiges of the connecting media, until, finally, a lasting union 
between the different members of such a series is established. 
We then know it by heart. 
7 



90 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. 

Such series originate constantly in the soul ; and necessarily, 
because consciousness is ever wandering and changing from 
one object to another, occurring always in consequence of the 
existence of mobile elements, which elements excite it, and 
at the same time connect the several mental modifications 
which successively follow each other. 

Of course, in order to establish a lasting connection between 
the several links of a series, it is necessary that the several 
members thereof should be repeatedly conjoined, that is, 
repeatedly pervaded and overspread by mobile elements, 
w T hich end is realized by frequent repetition. Numerous series 
originate in this way. Every morning the sun rises, and 
every evening it sets. Thus follows day and night. Every 
month the moon regularly changes her phases, and each year 
brings forth in regular succession spring, summer, fall and 
winter. The little boy every day w T alks from his father's home 
to school, and the houses, streets, trees, etc., he passes on his 
way, are noted in regular order. How many other series are 
there we acquire by intentional exercises ! AVe need not won- 
der at the great multitude of series which gradually collect in 
the human mind. 

In addition, one thing more ought to be taken into con- 
sideration. As all that has originated once in the soul need 
not be formed anew, we can easily understand why some 
persons catch a knowledge of some things seemingly without 
any effort, which with others requires a great deal of pains- 
taking. The reason is that in the first case whole series and 
groups are already stored up, which enter as constituents 
moulded to the cast of the new knowledge. Their efforts can 
concentrate, therefore, upon what is merely new ; while in the 
second case those less mentally furnished have to acquire the 
whole of what is offered. For this reason it is much easier for 
one who speaks English to learn German, than for a French- 
man, because the German and English languages, being de- 
rived from a common stock, have great similarities. Just as 
easy is it to understand why, when we perceive an object from 
one side, we very often know already how it is shaped on its 
opposite side without the need of looking at it. We know 



SOME IMPORTANT SERIES. 91 

from former experiences that the trunk of a tree is round on 
all sides ; that most houses, the fronts of which only we see in 
the streets, have back buildings and yards, without the neces- 
sity of ascertaining this fact in every case by personal inspec- 
tion, etc. It is a law that all that has once been acquired need not 
be acquired the second time, but enters as a ready constituent into 
all combinations, if fit for it; just exactly as the tone A of the 
piano fits not only to make the accord A sharp and A flat, 
but is also a constituent of F sharp, D sharp, D flat, F flat, etc. 
The constituents best fitted for entering into all sorts of combi- 
nations are notions or general ideas in combinations that are 
flexible, being composed only of the similars of many special 
things. But the apperceptions also, although they correspond 
to one object only, have nevertheless many points in common 
with others, as the objects themselves, from which they are 
derived, have many similarities with each other. It will now 
also better be understood why there occurs the union of the 
several constituents of concepts, judgments and syllogisms. 
The union likewise takes place in consequence of the same 
connecting media, the mobile elements, which pervade the 
several constituents of these modifications during their co- 
existence in consciousness and combination in one whole. In 
this instance the attraction of like to like acts at the same 
time. We need not wonder that just such mental modifica- 
tions attain the greatest durability. 

40. Some Important Series. — Cause axd Effect. — 
End and Means. 

When we make fire in a stove, heat ensues. When it rains, 
the ground becomes wet. When we perceive an object fre- 
quently, our conception of it grows clearer; and when in 
connection with a pleasurable modification a painful one is 
excited, and the mobile elements from the first flow to the 
latter, there originates an aversion. We have always found 
these results to follow, and never otherwise. Upon making fire 
in a stove, there always follows warmth ; after rain, the earth 
is always wet. We have here several series, each consisting 



92 the sphp:re of conation. 

of two parts — two different mental modifications, which, by 
their being invariably repeated together, gradually grow into 
so firm a union that, so soon as the one is excited, the other 
also rises into consciousness. 

Series like these, which, in consequence of processes follow- 
ing invariably one upon the other, either in the outer w*orld or 
in the mind, we carefully distinguish from other series. We 
consider each part a necessary constituent of the whole process. We 
consider the two constituents in a causal connection with each other, 
and call the first the cause and the second the effect. 

Mental modifications, standing in the relation of cause and effect, 
are, therefore, series which have originated in different processes, either 
in the outer world or in the mind, and have constantly and invari- 
ably followed one upon the other. We may call them causal 
series. 

It will, how T ever, be proper to mention here that not all 
sequences, which in the outer world follow invariably upon 
antecedents, stand in the relation of cause and effect. Of tw T o 
stars, which regularly rise one after the other, is the first the 
cause of the rising of the second? Is night the effect of 
day, or summer the effect of spring, or winter the effect of fall? 
All these stand in mere relation of space and time, but not in 
that of cause. It is a mere beside and after one another, but no 
by or through each other. There exists an external, but no in- 
ternal, connection between them. The discrimination between 
these two kinds of relations, in regard to the things of the 
outer world, is frequently very difficult to make, because in the 
outer world w r e observe merely appearances, which may, but 
need not, stand in an internal connection. It is different 
with the processes within our mind. In the mind everything 
that originates under a strictly causal relation manifests itself 
as thus induced. There is not, as in the outer w^orld, a mere 
before and after, which alone of all external processes our 
senses are able to perceive ; but we observe the processes them- 
selves, by themselves, and exactly as they originate, out of one 
another. (Compare Beneke's " Psychologische Skizzen," vol. 
ii., p. 264, et seq.) 

In reversing the above-mentioned series, so that we put first 



SOME IMPORTANT SERIES. 93 

the effect and after it the cause, they would read as follows: 
An aversion originates when, in connection with a pleasurable, 
a painful mental modification is excited, and the mobile ele- 
ments from the first flow to the latter. The conception of an 
object grows so much the clearer the often er we perceive it ; 
the stove gets warm when we make fire in it, and the ground 
becomes wet when it rains. Such reversals of causal series 
take place frequently in the mind. They depend upon a 
reverse excitation and combination, of which, however, I can- 
not speak more explicitly here. The several constituents re- 
main the same. (Compare Beneke's " Neue Psychologie," p. 
221, et seq., and Dressler's " Beitrage," vol. ii, p. 289.) 

Now, then, to proceed, there rises in me the desire to have a 
warm stove, and immediately I become conscious that fire pro- 
duces warmth. I want to get a clearer conception of a thing, 
and at once I know that repeated perceptions of that object 
would lead to it, and so on. In this manner I convert the effect 
into an end, and the cause into a means to obtain that end. 

We may say, therefore, that mental modifications, which stand to 
each other in the relation of ends and means, are series, the con- 
stituents of which are the same as those of causal series, only re- 
versed. 

A special consideration is due to those series of ends and 
means by which our muscles come into play, that is, those 
primitive forces by which we are enabled to act with our body 
in the external world. So soon as the infant succeeds in 
grasping and bringing fruit to his mouth, that is, in using 
the motion of his arms as a means to obtain the fruit, he 
acquires with this act a vestige in his muscular forces, which 
enters into a combination with the conception of the fruit. 
The perception of another fruit excites again this muscular 
action. The child again reaches for it and again acquires a 
vestige of this motion, which unites with the. first, so that, 
after repeated exercises, the child becomes quite expert in this 
kind of muscular action. The perception, desire and muscular 
motion grow by this repeated co-existence in consciousness 
into a lasting union, so that the latter is used as a means to 
obtain the end whenever it is desired and obtainable. In this 



94 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. 

way all our various muscular actions and dexterities are 
acquired; and they all form more or less extensive connections 
with perceptions, desires or aversions, in consequence of which 
the former become the means for realizing the other, and thus 
is it that the mind becomes capable of acting through the 
body upon the outer world. 

41. To Wish and To Will. 

I want to have my room warm, because I feel cold. The 
chilly sensation creates a desire for warmth. Warmth, then, 
is the object I wish to obtain. What now will be the mental 
processes which must ensue in consequence of this desire? 
Desires consist mainly of primitive forces which retain pre- 
dominantly their original conative power. To them other 
primitive forces join in preference, as to their similars (32), 
which not only increase the conative power of these striving 
forces, but spread also to those mental modifications which, 
by repeated co-existence in consciousness, have been joined 
in a lasting combination. When I, therefore, want to ob- 
tain the end — a warm room — these elements will necessarily 
excite into consciousness all those mental modifications 
which will serve as means to obtain that end. I shall, 
therefore, find (and every body else would experience the 
same) that they excite into consciousness the mental modi- 
fications of a stove, of wood, of coal, of matches, and 
of all the muscular actions necessary for the kindling of 
the fire ; or if I had a servant, of the muscular motions 
necessary to call that servant. In short, I find my desire for 
warmth excites into consciousness the whole series of ends 
and means, by reversing the causal series "that fire makes 
warm." But this is not all that is necessary to constitute a 
mental process in consequence of which I could say : I will 
have my room heated. Take, for example, the possibility that 
there were no stove in my room ; or that I had no wood, or 
coal, or matches in my possession ; or that by disease I were 
unable to kindle the fire, and had nobody to do it for me; 
could I then say, I will have my room heated ? Surely not ; I 



SIMILAR VOLITIONS COALESCE — ACTION. 95 

could merely wish it. This is the difference: In order to will 
it, it is not sufficient that a correct series of ends and means 
should rise into consciousness. I must know also beforehand 
that these means can be realized by me. If I am, therefore, in 
the possession of all the means of kindling the fire, either 
myself or of having it done by somebody else, I may say: I 
will have my room heated. If, however, I cannot be con- 
vinced beforehand of the possible realization of my desire, I 
can only wish it. An act of willing, or a volition, is, therefore, 
quite a complicated mental process. It requires : 

1. A desire in connection with mobile primitive forces, which 
cause — 

2. An excitation into consciousness of all the means by which the 
desired object may be obtained, and — 

3. The full conviction, beforehand, that the desired object can 
be obtained by us, because we know ourselves in possession, not 
only of the means, but also of the ability to apply those means for 
that purpose. 

If we are in want of the third condition we may wish 
but cannot will. This is the difference between wishing and 
willing. 

A few years ago no sane person could will to go to California 
within the space of seven days. To-day we can will it, Some 
years ago we could only wish to get news to us from Europe 
in the space of a few hours. To-day we can will it. 

Writing requires certain dexterities. So soon as we have 
acquired those dexterities, we can will to write ; but can these 
dexterities enable us to will to draw, to play on the piano, to 
play the violin, or to dance f Surely not. Each particular act 
of willing requires also a particular series of ends and means. 

42. Similar Volitions Coalesce. — Action. 

We know, from previous explanations, that all that origi- 
nates in the mind, with at least some perfection, remains as 
vestiges ; consequently acts of willing or volitions remain as 
vestiges also ; and as we further know that all similar elements 
coalesce, so also must volitions, as they originate, one after the 



96 THE SPHERE OF CONATION". 

other, coalesce with the vestiges of former similar volitions. 
However, this needs some explanation. 

A volition consists of a desire and a series of ends and means. 
Now, these two constituents may and mostly have originated 
quite independently of each other. One may have a desire 
and also possess the series of ends and means by which to ob- 
tain the desired object, and yet there may not originate a voli- 
tion in his mind, simply because these two constituents do not 
unite in consciousness. Of what use is it, if one has the desire 
to make an egg stand upon its end, if he does not remember, 
at the same time, that slightly cracking its top will accomplish 
his purpose? He may wish to accomplish this feat, like the 
professors of Salamanca ; but Columbus could will it, as in him 
alone both the desire and the necessary series of ends and 
means had united in simultaneous consciousness. Now every 
boy can will it, because, having heard of it, both constituents 
of this volition have been united by a connecting vestige in con- 
sequence of their co-existence in consciousness. An actual 
volition, then, is a joining of a desire and its corresponding- 
series of ends and means in one conscious act. Each repeti- 
tion of such or a similar volition produces a new connecting 
vestige between its two constituents, and thus volitions de- 
velop, by repetition, into prompt and dexterous action, con- 
stituting that feature of man which we call practical. Action 
is the immediate result of desires or aversions, conjoined with 
the necessary series of ends and means. The firmer this junc- 
tion between the two has been established, b}' repeated like or 
similar processes, the more readily will be the execution of 
such volitions — a most important point, which never ought to 
be lost sight of in the education of children. For, if these 
series of ends and means do not become excited with the 
desire, the effect is the same as if they were wanting, and a 
state of helplessness originates in the mind. "My dear 
father," says Bonstetten, in his autobiography, "forbade all 
our servants to do things for me w T hich I could do for myself. 
This soon gave me a feeling of independence, and made me 
find out many contrivances. In this independence I have 
remained all my life." 



THE WILL OF MAN. 97 



43. The Will of Man. 



The will is said to be the power of the mind of determining 
or deciding what it will do, and of putting forth volitions 
accordingly. This is rather a vague definition. If it means 
to consider the multifarious volitions in the abstract, it may 
be applied conditionally to the developed will ; but it leaves 
entirely unexplained how this power originates and gradually 
grows in the mind, or in other words, of what this power 
actually consists. A clear exposition of its nature must also 
explain why the will can act contradictorily so often in one 
and the same person; why, for example, to-day it wills 
this and to-morrow something else; and why, in fickle-minded 
persons, it can change so often even in an hour, and frequently 
in opposite directions. To explain all these apparent difficul- 
ties and contradictions, we need only refer to what we have 
thus far elicited by our investigations. 

We know that so soon as a desire is joined in consciousness 
by a corresponding series of ends and means, and we can be 
convinced beforehand of our ability to use these means to 
attain the end (in short, if we can, w r ith conviction, expect the 
realization of our desire), we will ; and if such similar processes 
are performed repeatedly, we gain a volition in this particular 
direction which remains as a vestige. If wq now inquire how 
many such single volitions may have originated in a developed 
mind, we might find it a difficult task to determine their num- 
ber, because each desire may, under the known conditions 
(41), result in an act of willing, and hj a repetition become a 
volition, ready at any moment to be recalled into activity. 
We may surely say that in the developed mind volitions have 
gradually originated in great numbers. It is not difficult to 
prove this from history and from daily experience. When 
King Saul was pleased by David on account of his skilful 
playing on the harp and his courageous fight with Goliath, he 
would have him always about his person. Afterward, when 
Saul became much depressed in spirits, and the loud praise of 
the people roused suspicion in his mind against David, he in- 
tended to kill him. Later again, when Saul had experienced 



98 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. 

the magnanimity of David in the cave, he ceased to pursue 
him, which quiet of mind, however, lasted only until new sus- 
picions arose against David. We see that in Saul's mind had 
originated various and opposite acts of willing or volitions. This 
alternation of will we find to be more or less the case in all 
men. We are often surprised at finding a benevolent man 
acting harshly toward others, and a good and obedient child 
become all at once headstrong and contrary. The explanation 
of such contradictory mental states is simply this: Acts of 
willing originate in desires (41). Desires are formed in great va- 
riety, according as this or another thing acts pleasurably upon us 
(26). It is no wonder, then, that acts of willing or volitions origi- 
nate likewise in great variety, and that we frequently find volitions 
of an opposite nature in one and the same individual. All tfiese 
various volitions, taken collectively, as they have gradually originated 
in the mind, constitute what we call the will of man. 

Man's will is, therefore, not at all a simple power, which can 
determine or decide what man will do, but is made up of quite 
numerous single volitions or acts of willing. Just exactly as 
the understanding consists of all the notions and ideas devel- 
oped in the mind (17), and the power of judgment or reason 
of all the vestiges which have originated in the single acts of 
judging and inferring (18), so also is the will of man the sum 
of the single acts of willing or volitions which gradually have been, 
and continually are, acquired in the way above stated, and which re- 
main as vestiges in the mind. Furthermore, we observe that the 
will grows stronger in proportion as the desires, by frequent 
repetition, assume the character of inclinations, propensities, 
and passions (29) ; provided these modifications have entered 
into an efficient connection with their corresponding series of 
ends and means ; and also that it grows in extent in the pro- 
portion in which volitions originate under the known con- 
ditions. 

Thus the will of man is continually growing, not only in 
power, but also in extent. It can never be considered as 
wholly finished or completed at any one time, and least so in 
the child. A power it can be called only in abstracto, as far 
as single acts of volitions have developed, and have remained 



SUMMARY. 99 

as vestiges in the mind. In reality it is the sum of all voli- 
tions actually existing in the mind. 

It remains to be observed that aversions form also, to a 
large extent, part of the will. For, although an aversion 
consists in a striving against, and not, like a desire, in a 
striving toward something, 34 shows clearly that, notwithstand- 
ing this, the nature of both is the same, a manifestation of the 
conative power of the primitive forces. As aversions frequently 
combine with series of ends and means to keep off the dis- 
pleasing objects, their relation with what is termed the will 
of man is quite obvious. 

An excellent article " On the Nature and Development of 
the Will of Man," by Dressier, is found in Diesterweg's Pseda- 
gogiscJien Jahrbuche auf 1861. 

44. Summary. 

I. The primitive forces of the human soul. 

They are conative in their nature, because they are living 
soul. This conation is a tendency or striving toward repletion 
with corresponding external stimuli in general, but not a 
striving for special objects (24). 

When the primitive forces are developed by pleasurable 
stimulation, their general conation is changed into a striving 
after stimuli of a special kind (in short, converted into a 
special desire). (26). How far other than pleasurable stimulation 
is capable of producing desires is demonstrated in 27. 

Among the qualities of the primitive forces, acuteness and 
vivacity especially are most favorable for the formation of de- 
sires, while their tenacity rather tends to prevent such forma- 
tions. Still a certain degree of it is quite indispensable for 
the formation of inclinations and passions (30). Upon the 
formation of aversions also, the qualities of the primitive 
forces bear the same influence (37). 

So long as the primitive forces are not definitely changed by 
external stimuli, they are free and mobile — that is, capable of 
flowing to and combining with the developed mental modifica- 
tions which they excite into consciousness. Thus originate 



100 THE SPHERE OF CONATION. 

voluntary excitations in consciousness (30 and 31). If they are 
only partially modified, they also retain their mobility and 
cause involuntary excitation into consciousness (31). 

II. External stimuli. 

The quantitative relation of external stimuli to the primitive 
forces is of a five-fold nature, and may produce an insufficient, 
full, pleasurable, satiating, or painful stimulation (25). The 
vestiges of these various stimulations form the foundation of 
the various characters, moods, tempers, and peculiarities of the 
developed mind (25). According to their quantitative rela- 
tion the external stimuli cause various kinds of development 
of the primitive forces; it is the most perfect by full, the least 
perfect by painful stimulation (25). 

Only the full and pleasurable stimuli perfect the primitive 
forces. The other modes of stimulation exert a weakening 
influence. Thus originate strong and weak modifications (33) ; 
and we learn to consider things as either good or evil, accord- 
ing to their impressions upon us (38). 

III. The fundamental processes in the mind. 

1. The transformation of primitive forces by external stimuli, 
which is an origination in the human soul of sensations and per- 
ceptions in consequence of impressions from the external world. 
In short, all that once with some perfection has originated 
in the mind, remains as a vestige or vestiges. This law we 
have also found substantiated throughout the sphere of 
conation. 

2. The attraction of like to like, which is a constant union in 
the human soul of like with like and similar with similar. This 
law shows its action in the fusion of single similar desires into 
inclinations, propensities and passions (29); of single similar 
aversions into disinclinations, repugnance, and detestations (36), 
and of single similar acts of willing into volitions (42). Of 
what does the will of man consist? How far does the will 
reach in extent (43) ? 

3. The diffusion of mobile elements — a constant flowing of mobile 
elements from, one mental modification to another, thus causing con- 
tinual transmutation of our mental modifications from delitescence 
into conscious excitation, and vice versa (32). 



SUMMARY. 101 

In consequence of this process originate aversions. How do 
aversions differ from desires (34) ? Aversions are frequently 
attended with pain, and are then more violent than usual — 
painful emotions (35). 

By the same process also originate combinations of dissim- 
ilar mental modifications into groups and series, the mobile 
elements constituting connecting vestiges between the single 
and dissimilar members (39). 

Two of the most important series are those which constitute 
cause and effect, and end and means (40). 

If, by the diffusion of mobile elements, a desire is joined with 
a series of ends and means, and if we can be convinced before- 
hand of the possible realization of our desire, we will If, 
however, we cannot be convinced beforehand of the possible 
realization, we can merely wish (41). What is the will of 
man (42) ? 

The whole series of investigations has proven, like the 
previous series, that even the most complex of our mental acts, 
so far as we have considered them, originate from the same 
primitive forces and external stimuli, in consequence of the 
fundamental processes above stated. All desires, aversions, 
volitions, and acts of wishing, we have clearly traced to the 
primitive forces ; all groups and series in their most varied 
combinations, all pleasurable and painful modifications, are 
also the result of the operation of external stimuli upon the 
primitive forces. Further investigations will enlarge our 
views still more in the same direction. 



PART III. 



THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF 
THE FEELINGS. 



45. During our Waking State there are Always Two or 
More Mental Modifications, either Simultaneously 
or Successively Excited into Consciousness. 

This proposition is easily proved. While reading, for in- 
stance, the several ideas which the words represent are roused 
into consciousness, and frequently other ideas in addition. 
While engaged in conversation or listening to a lecture, all 
the ideas corresponding to the words heard rise into conscious- 
ness. Even while alone, with stillness and darkness around 
us, when no external stimuli act upon us, we ma}' be, 
and usually are, full of thought. We often observe in such 
loneliness quite a tumultuous agitation of the mind, that may 
entirely prevent us from going to sleep, or may drive the timid 
almost to despair. It might be difficult to always define the 
number of mental modifications arising in quick succession 
in consciousness, or the velocity with which they follow one 
upon the other. The velocity of thought depends upon the 
degree of vivacity of the primitive forces; and, as vivacity 
varies in different persons, the rapidity of excitation in con- 
sciousness necessarily varies. Attempts to define the velocity 
of thought in numbers can give, therefore, only approxi- 
mate results. Still, time is required for the excitation of 
vestiges into consciousness, and in some persons it takes so 
long that their best thoughts become after-thoughts ; while, in 

(102) 



MENTAL MODIFICATIONS DIFFER. 103 

others, the most complex mental processes often roll off with 
astonishing celerity. In the quiet hours of life, which are by 
far the most numerous, we do not observe such hasty rushing 
of mental modifications. The modifications then take a more 
even and quiet course. But we always find, if we pay any 
attention at all to what happens in the mind, that the excitation 
into consciousness is never confined to one modification alone, but 
extends over several, either simultaneously or successively. 

46. All Mental Modifications Differ More or Less from 

Each Other. 

" Whenever a sufficient number of similar vestiges have 
united for us to have a clear consciousness of the object from 
which the external elements were obtained — although the 
external object be no longer present — we have a conception of 
that object" (10). This union of similar vestiges belongs to 
all conceptions. But the conception we have of a red color 
has originated from altogether different stimuli than the one we 
have of the^ree^; and the conception of the word "green" 
has again originated, not only from different external stimuli 
(stimuli of sound), but also in different primitive forces (those 
of hearing). The conception of " hard," again, has its origin 
in the primitive forces of touch and external stimuli cor- 
responding thereto, etc. So far we may say that all our con- 
ceptions differ more or less from each other. We may trace 
this difference still farther. No two conceptions will consist 
of exactly the same number of vestiges, neither will the 
quantum of external stimuli, by which they have been formed, 
ever be alike, one having grown out of full, another out of 
nearly full, another out of pleasurable stimulations, etc. ; and 
this difference in genesis necessarily gives each mental modi- 
fication a different character. 

Concepts, judgments and inferences originate from single per- 
ceptions and conceptions. If, now, as we have seen, all con- 
ceptions differ greatly from each other, it is easy to conceive 
that the more complex mental modifications, which have 
grown out of the conceptions, must have still greater mutual 



104 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 

difference. All concepts are similar only so far as they are a 
combination of the similar elements of different perceptions 
(or conceptions) in one act of consciousness (15). Concepts 
differ, however, in many respects. One has originated from 
one kind, another from a different kind of stimuli ; one out 
of a great number of single perceptions, another out of a few ; 
one out of perceptions which are characterized by great rich- 
ness of external stimuli, another out of perceptions of an 
opposite nature. The same holds good as regards judgments 
and syllogisms. If we compare single desires, we find that they 
correspond with each other so far as they arise from pleasur- 
able stimulations (26). But a merely superficial consideration 
of their formation must teach, that the transformation of 
primitive forces into desires will take place with some on a 
larger, with others on a smaller scale ; that with some it will 
go on rapidly, and with others slowly, and thus cause great 
variety among the single desires. We must also add that two 
desires must necessarily differ in the object they strive for, 
and that each one may have grown out of different quanti- 
tative relations between the external stimuli and the primitive 
forces (25). 

In regard to aversions the same is true (34, 35), as the vari- 
ous quantitative relations cause still greater variations between 
them. It is also true of inclinations, repugnancies, passions, etc. 
They are still more complex modifications. This fact gives 
room for the greatest variety in the quantity and quality of 
their vestiges. 

An act of ivill always requires a desire (41). If, now, all 
desires differ from each other, then the difference between single 
acts of willing must be still greater, because each single act of 
will requires also its special series of ends and means (41). 

These facts prove clearly that all our mental modifications 
differ more or less from each other. There are, in fact, no two 
modifications which can be considered entirely alike. Indeed, 
if they were alike they would cease to be two, as, by the law of 
attraction of like to like, the two would fuse into one (9). 
Not only must they differ in regard to the external stimuli 
(their objective side), and in regard to the primitive forces 



FEELINGS. 105 

(their subjective side), which are differently developed by the 
various quantitative relations of external stimuli (25), but also 
in regard to the number of vestiges of which they consist (in 
accordance with which some are stronger, clearer, etc., than 
others). We find a similar diversity among objects in the ex- 
ternal world. Among the billions of things there are no two 
which can be considered entirely alike. 



47. When Two or More Mental Modifications are Pres- 
ent Together in Consciousness, we immediately 
Become Conscious of their Difference. — Feelings. 

a. When we go out of a close room into the fresh air we feel 
refreshed. 

b. When, on the other hand, we enter another room just as 
close as the one we have left, or go from the fresh air into the 
fresh air, we have no such feeling. How is this to be explained? 
Analyzing these cases we find (1) that in both there are two 
mental modifications excited into consciousness — namely, in 
a, the perceptions of closeness of the atmosphere and fresh air ; 
in b, the perceptions of closeness of the atmosphere and close- 
ness of atmosphere, or fresh air and fresh air; (2) that in a 
there is a great difference between the two perceptions simulta- 
neously excited ; in b there is no such difference ; and (3) that 
in a we feel refreshed, in b not. Why did this feeling originate 
in a and no feeling originate in b f There was not the slight- 
est hindrance in the latter case, nor the slightest additional 
prpceeding in either case. There was in a simply a perception 
of " fresh air," excited in close conjunction with a perception 
of " close air," and we would become conscious of the difference 
at once. To express it otherwise, with the consciousness of 
the two different perceptions we had immediately a third per- 
ception: The feeling — i. e., the consciousness — of the difference, 
which necessarily was a feeling of refreshment, because in this 
property fresh air differs from close air, and only from close 
air ; for in b there were likewise two perceptions excited into 
consciousness, and still there was no distinct feeling springing 

8 



106 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OK SPHERE OP THE PEELINGS. 

from tliem. The reason is obvious. Consciousness can dis- 
cover no difference-between the two. All like and similar modi- 
fications must coalesce into one, according to the law of the 
attraction of like to like (9), and therefore no feeling can 
originate. 

We come thus to this conclusion : A feeling can originate only 
ivhen several (at least two) mental modifications which differ from 
each other are excited into consciousness, either simultaneously or in 
quick succession. This difference is immediately arid of itself 'pre- 
sented to our consciousness ; and it is just this immediate and con- 
comitant consciousness of the difference between mental modifica- 
tions, simultaneously excited, that ice call a feeling. 

Like modifications produce no feelings, neither do like sen- 
sations; they simply remain what they are. 

It is clear that the word u feeling " is here used in an entirely 
different sense from that in which it was used in 1. There 
"feeling" designates some classes of primitive forces; here it 
means what some psychological writers have also termed sen- 
sibility. I do not think this latter word an improvement. The 
Anglo-Saxon term " feeling" is decidedly the better, since the 
psychological result is surely a feeling. A consciousness of the 
difference between several mental modifications has nothing to 
do with the senses. 

48. Factors of Feelings. 

A feeling can originate only when diverse (at least two) 
mental modifications are excited into consciousness, either 
simultaneously or in quick succession (47). 

Let us think of a man vividly impressed by his present cir- 
cumstances, and let these circumstances be the urgent need 
of money. So long as these modifications alone are excited in 
his consciousness, he will undoubtedly have no painful per- 
ception of his state, as we, indeed, find thousands of people 
live contentedly year in year out under just such conditions. 
We say : " They don't know any better," and this opinion 
contains a great deal of truth. Take the case differently, and 
suppose the man above mentioned has formerly lived in 



FACTORS OF FEELINGS. 107 

better circumstances, that he therefore knows of better circum- 
stances, and we shall find that he cannot help bringing his 
former better circumstances (pleasurable excitations) into a 
simultaneous consciousness with his present poor circum- 
stances (painful excitations). What will be the consequence? 
Contentedness will vanish ; he will have a feeling of pain. This 
feeling originates simply in this way : He measures, if I 
may figuratively express it, his present circumstances with 
those he formerly enjoyed, and thus becomes aware of the 
difference of the two conditions during their co-existence 
in consciousness. 

For better understanding we may call the modifications in 
which others are measured, the basis of an act of feeling, or the 
measure by which the difference is felt. In the above instance 
the recollection of former better times is, therefore, the basis 
or measure by which the present poor circumstances are 
measured, or with which they are compared. Both the 
measure and the measured — that is, the basis, and what has 
been felt, measured or compared on this basis — are the factors 
or elements of an act of feeling. They need not, however, be 
always a consciousness of a single perception, as cited in the 
first example of close and fresh air. Complex mental modifi- 
cations produce the same effect so soon as they are measurable 
or comparable. 

Let us, for the sake of further explanation, suppose that the 
man above mentioned has regained a state of prosperity. 
What will now be his feelings? We may mark out three 
different possibilities : 

1. The consciousness of his former better circumstances forms 
the basis on which the recent prosperous condition is meas- 
ured. As the difference between the two is not great, the 
recent lucky turn cannot produce a very marked feeling. It 
will leave him in quiet content. 

2. The consciousness of his former poor circumstances forms 
the basis on which his present prosperous condition is meas- 
ured. This will undoubtedly cause a feeling of joy, inas- 
much as his present condition is a pleasurable excitation com- 
pared with the former. 



108 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 

3. His present prosperous condition remains latent in con- 
sciousness, and his former prosperous state rises as a basis for 
comparison with the poverty that followed. In this case he 
will have the same feeling of pain that he had before. This 
pain fastened to the past is common even in a prosperous 
condition. Why? Because in the time of his suffering, both 
his former prosperous condition and his following poor one 
rose so frequently into consciousness, that they became bound 
together by mobile elements into groups or series (38). So 
long as tliis connection lasts, it will produce the identical feeling 
to which it first gave rise. With some persons this feeling, 
never having been very strong, does not seem to have a pro- 
tracted duration ; and their present happy time occupies so 
entirely their thoughts, that their former condition can rise 
but faintly into consciousness. By and by the combination 
in consciousness between their former prosperous and their 
following poor condition dissolves altogether, the single factors 
are drawn into other combinations, and thus the old feeling 
of pain ceases entirely. 

We may say, therefore, that a feeling endures only so long as 
its factors remain combined in groups or series. When, however } 
the simidtaneous consciousness of the factors — the measure and the 
measured — is interfered with, or the connection between the two is 
broken, the feeling, which is the consciousness of the difference 
between the two, must likewise cease. Thus we come to the very 
important fact that feelings differ materially from conceptions 
and conations. The latter, both of them, endure as independent 
vestiges. The feelings, however, endure only so far as their factors 
have become united by mobile elements into firm groups or series; 
for they consist, as we have seen, only in the consciousness 
of the difference between the several mental modifications during 
their conscious excitation. Thus it follows that feelings are not 
a new Jcind of mental modification, but only a particular mode of 
consciousness — a consciousness of the difference between diverse 
modifications, so long as they are in a state of co-excitation. 
The one acts then as a basis upon which the other is lifted into 
the foreground. As in a picture, the prominent parts appear 
as such only because of the surrounding shades. That modi- 



EXTENT OF THE FEELINGS. 109 

fication which acts as basis — the measure — is usually the least 
prominent in consciousness; but that which is measured is 
foremost in consciousness, and this gives rise to the feeling. We 
find, therefore, that a white object appears still whiter beside 
a less white object; and so a pleasurable stimulation is felt in 
a higher degree when it co-exists with a less pleasurable modi- 
fication. If both modifications are excited with equal strength, 
each of them may produce a separate feeling, in so far as 
each may act as basis for the other; or both may produce a 
mixed feeling, so far as neither is taken as a distinctive basis. 
Thus we frequently have a feeling of joy mingled with grief, 
or feel pleasure and pain following each other alternately. 

Now that we understand the nature of feelings, their great 
variability according to the continual change of mental modi- 
fications in consciousness, by which new groups and series 
perpetually originate, it may be easily understood why in the 
old psychologies there is such a confusion in regard to these 
mental phenomena. Some psychologists deny them the rank 
of a separate class of mental powers, while others (since Kant) 
give them the same rank with cognitions and conations. Still 
more confused we find the attempts to classify them. Although 
a great deal of labor has been spent upon the elucidation of 
feelings, nowhere do we find an analysis which even approxi- 
mately demonstrates what they consist of and by what mental 
processes they originate. This work has been performed by 
Beneke, and the following will prove still more how wonder- 
fully keen his observations were in solving the most obscure 
mental phenomena. 

49. Extent of the Feelings — Their Freshness or Vividness. 

During our waking state there are always several mental 
modifications, either simultaneously or successively, in a state 
of excitation (45), and all mental modifications differ more or 
less from each other (46). If now, as has been shown in 47, 
we immediately become conscious of the difference between 
mental modifications which are excited simultaneously into 
consciousness, it follows that we cannot be without feelings for 



110 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 

a single moment of our life. Is this confirmed by experience? 
Seemingly not. What particular feeling has the reader 
while perusing these pages, where a great number of different 
mental modifications have risen into consciousness ? If he 
considers this question superficially, he will answer " None." 
Indeed, this is a case where modifications rise into conscious- 
ness, which are neither of a pleasurable nor of a painful 
character, as is the case with our ordinary conceptions. This 
is natural enough, for where there is no marked difference 
between the single modifications, there, of course, cannot arise 
a consciousness of any ; or, in other words, we cannot have a 
marked feeling of a difference during the consciousness of 
modifications between which there is no marked difference. 
Still, even at times similar to the illustration, we are not 
entirely without feeling. This is necessary ; for if there be a 
difference, ever so small, this difference must be felt, and a 
closer observation makes it evident. We find that when a 
concept is excited in conjunction with a perception, we have a 
feeling of greater clearness ; for just by its greater clearness the 
concept differs from a mere perception (16) ; and if some new 
ideas have been presented to our mind, we have the feeling of 
their new T ness. It is equally true that no one can mistake a 
perception for a desire, a desire for an aversion, a recollection 
for a perception, determination for fickle-mindedness, courage 
for fear, etc., because the difference of all these modifications 
makes itself felt immediately. Although, in the language of 
common life, only manifestations of the more marked and striking 
differences are called feelings, a closer observation must also 
assign those manifestations which have less marked differences 
to the class of feelings. We find, therefore, that this class of 
mental developments extends as far as there are any mani- 
festations of difference between simultaneously excited mental 
modifications. Of course the difference between the feelings 
as regards their strength is very obvious. Some are stronger 
than others. Some feelings are often so little marked that 
their character to the superficial observer as feelings is lost 
altogether. 

He who always enjoys health does not usually esteem its 



CONCEPTION, DESIRE AND FEELING. Ill 

value. After a spell of sickness, however, he feels quite differ- 
ently about it. The rich man does not value the gain of a few 
dollars, while such a gain would delight a poor man. All 
feelings concur in this : Tlie greater the difference between modi- 
fications simultaneously excited, the stronger, fresher, or more vivid 
is the feeling; while the less this difference, the weaker or fainter is the 
feeling ; or, as it might otherwise be expressed, the greater the 
difference between mental modifications simultaneously excited, the 
greater is the vividness with which this difference manifests itself 

50. The Same Mental Process may be Conception, De- 
sire and Feeling at the Same Time. 

Suppose we see a fine picture or hear a good piece of music. 
In both cases we gain a conception of what we see or hear. At 
the same time we are pleasurably excited by sight or hearing, 
because the impressions we realize from the picture or the 
music are of a richer nature than the other things we see or 
hear at that time. This difference at once manifests itself in a 
corresponding feeling of pleasure. If, now, the picture be car- 
ried away or the music cease, it is quite natural that we should 
want to look at the picture once more, or to have the music 
repeated ; proving that the primitive forces have retained some 
of their conative power, which now is converted into a desire 
for these special stimulants. The seeing of the picture or the 
hearing of a piece of music has had, therefore, the following 
three-fold effect upon us: (1) So far as the primitive forces have 
been definitely changed by the external stimuli, a conception has orig- 
inated of what we have seen or heard ; (2) as this conception differed 
from the other conscious mental modifications we happened to have 
at that time, this difference manifested itself immediately as a 
feeling ; and (3) as the primitive forces retained their conative power, 
a desire has originated for a renewal of the same impressions. Thus 
we see that the same mental process — the seeing of a picture or 
the hearing of a piece of music — may result in a conception, a 
feeling, and a desire at the same time. This is quite frequently 
the case. 

We have seen in 28 that an act of desire is at the same time 



112 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 

an act of conception. In order that the same act may be also 
one of feeling, nothing is required but the co-existence of other 
modifications in consciousness, from which it differs. The 
immediate manifestation of this difference is the feeling. If, 
for instance, I desire an apple, I have, at the same time, a 
conception of it, and so far as an apple, compared with many 
other eatables, has caused in me a fuller stimulation, this con- 
ception manifests itself as a pleasurable feeling. We see thus 
that the same mental process can be of a three-fold nature — 
a conception, a desire, and a feeling. Usually one of these 
forms preponderates more or less over the others. Conception, 
desire, and feeling are, therefore, only three different forms of 
one and the same mental process. They originate in the same 
primitive forces and stimuli. The form of feeling requires 
merely the co-existence of other mental modifications in con- 
sciousness, as a basis whereupon the present impression can 
be measured. 

51. Feelings of Pleasure and Pain. — Difference be- 
tween Sensation, Feeling and Perception. 

When external stimuli act in greater abundance upon the 
primitive forces than the latter require for their development, 
we have an immediate feeling of pleasure (25). We can now 
see why this must be so. The present plentiful stimulation follows 
or meets in consciousness other modifications of a less pleasur- 
able character, which act as a basis upon w T hich it is meas- 
ured. The greater agitation of the primitive forces caused by 
this abundance of external stimuli, compared with but 
ordinary developments, manifests itself as a feeling of pleasure. 
This is the difference between them. 

Now, there are also pleasurable sensations. What is the 
difference between them and pleasurable feelings? Sensations 
are understood by the new^ psychology only as simple actions of 
the senses, where unmodified primitive forces are acted upon by 
corresponding external stimuli, without the accession of simi- 
lar vestiges previously acquired. Such an act is almost with- 
out consciousness, as w T e observe in the new-born child. Only 



FEELINGS OF PLEASURE AND PAIN. 113 

by repeated actions of similar external stimuli upon cor- 
responding primitive forces, and the union of their vestiges 
into homogeneous aggregates, does the full consciousness of 
the same originate (9, 10) and the mind become gradually 
enriched with a great number of conscious modifications. But 
even then new impressions of external stimuli continue to 
act upon single corresponding primitive forces, and these acts 
would, indeed, continue to be mere obscure sensations through 
life, if it were not for the accumulated similar vestiges wmich 
are excited with each successive sensation, thus augmenting 
the embryonic consciousness of the mere sensation and con- 
verting it into a full conscious perception (12). 

We may say, therefore, that perceptions are sensations which 
receive their full consciousness from the aggregates of similar vestiges 
previously acquired. In short, perceptions are multiplied sensa- 
tions. Consider this course of reasoning with reference to pleas- 
urable sensations also. Pleasurable sensations differ from non- 
pleasurable only in this : They originate in a fuller afflux 
of external stimuli (25). If, now, the present pleasurable 
sensation excites the vestiges of former similar pleasurable 
stimulations, it at once partakes of the degree of consciousness 
w T hich is a property of these multiple vestiges, and thus becomes 
converted into a pleasurable perception. Now, if at the same 
time as such an act of pleasurable sensation occurs, other non- 
pleasurable modifications are likewise present in consciousness, 
the latter will serve as basis for comparison between them and 
the higher excitation of the pleasurable perception. The 
abundance of external stimuli will become manifest as a 
pleasurable feeling. 

There is, then, between a sensation of pleasure and a per- 
ception of pleasure, no other difference than that wdrich exists 
between a sensation and a perception in general. The pleas- 
urable sensation is a single act of union between abundant 
external stimuli and corresponding primitive forces. As 
such it is already a feeling, although of the very faintest kind, 
a feeling in degree corresponding to its elementary conscious- 
ness. The perception of pleasure, on the contrary, is a full, con- 
scious modification during advanced development, such as at 



114 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE PEELINGS. 

the commencement of mental life never exists. Only by re- 
peated pleasurable sensations do pleasurable perceptions origi- 
nate ; and they produce actual feelings of pleasure only by the 
above-explained measurement or comparison with other men- 
tal modifications. In the new-born soul all sensorial activities 
are, therefore, sensations; while in the developed mind they 
result in perceptions and feelings. But even in the developed 
mind such sensations, no doubt, take place, since their similar 
vestiges are not in all instances excited into consciousness. 
This is the case especially when w T e receive entirely new im- 
pressions, or where the impressions are of a very fleeting 
character, or w T here the consciousness is concentrated upon other 
subjects. These sensations endure, as w r e shall see in 70, in 
their elementary character. 

In common language the concepts sensation, perception and 
feeling (of pleasure) are usually confounded. All that manifests 
itself either as pleasure or pain is called, indiscriminately, sen- 
sation or feeling. Such an ambiguous use of words ought to 
be confined, however, only to manifestations in the lower 
senses. Here it might be admissible to speak of sensations, 
because none of the modifications arising in these senses ever 
attain a very great clearness (8). Their reproductions are al- 
ways obscure, and therefore might be designated by either 
term indifferently. 

In paragraph 38, and in other places, it has been showm that 
in reality there is no line of demarcation between the quantum 
of external stimuli constituting a full or a pleasurable stimula- 
tion. We cannot say that just so much external stimuli pro- 
duce a full, and just so much produce a pleasurable, stimula- 
tion. From this fact it follows that there must also exist a 
great difference between the different pleasurable feelings ; and 
this truth is already indicated by the different expressions 
w r e have to signify different degrees of pleasurable feelings, 
such as : " Pleasure, joy, delight, rapture, enchantment, ec-' 
stacy," etc. 

The mode by which pleasurable sensations are converted 
into feelings, is the same by which all other sensations take 
the same form. Where the quantum of external stimuli is 



FEELINGS OF PLEASURE AND PAIN. 115 

too scanty for the capacity of the primitive forces, we have 
forces side by side which are partly developed and partly not. 
This of itself must cause a sensation of non-satisfaction. But 
when this insufficient stimulation, and the vestiges of former 
similar insufficient stimulations, are aroused into consciousness 
(as is usually the case), and at the same time also modifications 
of fuller stimulations, with which they can be measured, then 
the mere sensation will at once be converted into a decided feel- 
ing of non-satisfaction. 

In cases of satiating stimulation we feel the increase of ex- 
ternal stimuli in its relation to the primitive forces as a grad- 
ual over-stimulation, causing a sensation of satiety or loathing. 
If, however, as is usually the case, this sensation excites the 
vestiges of previous similar stimulations, and is measured upon 
the basis of other more perfect modifications existing in con- 
sciousness at the same time, we have a clear feeling of satiety or 
loathing. Lastly, in cases where the primitive forces are sud- 
denly overwhelmed by too great a quantum of external stimuli, 
we have a feeling of pain, which becomes stronger in propor- 
tion as more numerous similar vestiges are drawn into the 
process, and are measured on more perfect modifications 
excited at the same time. Simple irritation of primitive forces 
causes only a dull sensation of pain. 

The feelings of non-satisfaction, satiety and pain, may be 
comprised under the general term " feelings of pain," and their 
opposites under the term " feelings of pleasure." In this 
nomenclature we take the word " pain " in its widest sense. 
What we have said of the pleasurable feelings, is equally 
applicable to feelings of pain. They have within themselves 
no sharp line of demarcation. They gradually merge into 
one another, and it is possible that a weak painful feeling, in 
the presence of one more powerful, may lose entirely its pain- 
ful character, " dolor dolorem solvit," or may be felt even as 
pleasure. 

We see thus that the difference between pleasure and pain, 
as with other mental modifications, arises for the most part 
from the peculiar development which the primitive forces 
receive from the varied quantitative relation of the external 



116 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 

stimuli to them. This varied development of the primitive 
forces endures as independent vestiges, and forms their peculiar 
pleasurable or painful character, a kind of development which, 
by the law of the attraction of like to like, grows gradually 
into conscious modifications, and these, in the presence of other 
measurable modifications, produce actual feelings of pleasure or 
pain. A conscious feeling would not be possible without these 
peculiar fundamental developments of the primitive forces — 
that is, without that peculiar painful or pleasurable character 
which they have received from the varied quantitative rela- 
tions of the external stimuli. It is this varied quantitative 
relation of the external stimuli that constitutes the basis of all 
kinds of moods, dispositions and characters of the developed 
mind. 

52. The Same Stimulation Does not Always Cause the 

Same Feeling. 

Some patients cannot bear the common light of day, or the 
sound of ordinary talking, or even the touch of the bedclothes. 
Why is this ? The stimuli cannot be the cause, or other 
people would be equally affected by them. The reason must 
be looked for in a peculiar condition of the patient's primitive 
forces. These forces are undoubtedly weakened by disease, 
or, what is perhaps the most frequent occurrence in such cases, 
the bodily organs are diseased, and in these organs, that is in 
the lowest or vital senses, originate the painful sensations. 
That this explanation is the true one, we see when the patient 
becomes well — that is, when the primitive forces of the higher 
or of the vital senses have regained their normal energy. The 
same stimuli in health do not cause the over-stimulation 
noticed in disease. Whether, therefore, this feeling or another be 
caused by the same stimuli, depends, 1, upon the condition of the 
primitive forces and their sensory organs. 

Furthermore. When a poor man has a chance to satisfy his 
hunger with a frugal meal, it causes a decided pleasurable 
feeling in him ; another, who is accustomed to a daily rich 
table, might feel rather disappointed by such a style of fare. 



STIMULATION AND CAUSE OF FEELING. 117 

One who is brought up in a large city is little affected by 
the beautiful signs, show windows, statues, etc., he sees every 
day, while the country boy, coming to town for the first time, 
is almost stunned by the new impressions he receives. The 
stimuli cannot be the cause of this difference. The stimuli 
are the same for both parties. Neither can it be the primitive 
forces, for in both we suppose them to be in a natural condi- 
tion. The cause must lie, therefore, in something else. 

When the poor man satisfies his appetite, he compares his 
present impressions with those he has received from his usual 
poorer quality of food, and in the comparison the present im- 
pressions are of a much more agreeable nature, and as such 
they manifest themselves immediately as a feeling of pleasure. 
The rich man, on the contrary, measures the impressions of a 
frugal meal with impressions derived from meals of richer 
quality, and, finding thus his present fare rather " inferior " 
to his accustomed mode of living, has immediately a feeling 
of dissatisfaction. The same is the case with the boys of city 
and of country breeding. The impressions which the country 
boy receives on coming to town differ greatly in splendor 
from those received in the village or on the farm, and the 
immediate consciousness of this difference constitutes his feel- 
ing of astonishment; while to the city boy all these splendid 
things are old acquaintances. There is no difference in the 
usual impressions, and, therefore, no particular feeling of 
astonishment. 

We shall find this peculiarity true in other cases. The kind 
of feeling impressions are capable of producing depends 
entirely upon the kind of mental modifications with which they are 
brought into conscious co-existence. Another basis, or another 
measure for the same impressions, gives another measurement, 
and thus a different feeling. Thus we find as causes for dif- 
ferent feelings aroused by the same impressions : 1, the condition 
of the primitive forces ; and, 2, the co-existent mental modifications 
with which the impressions are measured — other measures, other 
measurements, id est, other feelings. The measure or basis, it 
will be observed, is in all cases the least conscious modification ; 
the measured new impressions are the most prominent in con- 
sciousness and condition the feeling (48). 



118 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE PEELINGS. 

In this way only is it conceivable that the same object can 
produce at one time a pleasurable, and at another time a pain- 
ful feeling. 

53. Feelings of the Agreeable, of the Beautiful, and 
the Sublime. — Their Proximate Factors. 

To originate agreeable, beautiful or sublime feelings, a 
pleasurable stimulation is always required. An abundance 
of external stimuli alone is not sufficient to produce them. 
There are required also, as we shall presently see, certain quali- 
ties of the primitive forces, and to these qualities a cultivated 
mind must add its acquired treasures to form fully the feelings 
of the beautiful and the sublime. 

When a lively piece of music is played ; when the vivid 
colors of a picture or a bouquet strike our eyes; when sweet 
odors in spring scent the atmosphere ; when we partake of a 
richer dinner than usual — we feel pleasurably excited. When 
dazzling lightning cleaves the dark clouds, and rolling thun- 
der shakes the earth ; when the whole ocean seems in uproar, 
and dashes its waves against the rock-bound coast; when on a 
clear night we look up to the firmament and see worlds upon 
worlds in the immeasurable space — we likewise feel pleasurably 
excited. 

But the difference between these feelings is vast. We call 
the first agreeable, the latter sublime. What, then, is the essen- 
tial character of each constituting this difference ? 

If we at present dismiss the consideration of the elements' 
that must be educed from the mind itself for the formation of 
feelings of the sublime, we see at a glance, that in the instances 
of the first order the excitants are of a light and vivid nature, 
w T hich require for their reception nothing but a sufficient de- 
gree of vivacity and acuteness of the primitive forces. In order, 
however, that these vivid impressions may result not merely in 
obscure sensations, it is necessary that they should find vestiges 
of former similar impressions, in order to attain the character 
of conscious perceptions (50). 

In the instances of the second order we find the excitants of 



FEELINGS OF THE AGREEABLE, ETC. , 119 

a much graver, more comprehensive nature; they act, therefore, 
in a much weightier, steadier and slower manner upon the 
primitive forces. Such excitants require greater energy of the 
primitive forces to support and receive them; and that such 
impressions should result not merely in obscure sensations, 
but in full conscious perceptions, there is required, as in the 
former case, an excitation of similar impressions previously 
received (51). 

Furthermore, when the setting sun clothes the sky in purple, 
or the splendid colors of light appear on the sky as a rainbow; 
when a fine country scene spreads before our eyes, with vil- 
lages, woods and lakes intermingled ; when we listen to a finely 
executed opera of Beethoven, Mozart, etc. — we are also pleasur- 
ably affected. But we do not call the feelings produced there- 
by agreeable or sublime, we call them beautiful. 

Here, too, as in the above instances, the addition of similar 
vestiges to the present impressions is necessary to make them 
full, conscious acts. The excitants, however, are neither so 
light as in the instances of the agreeable, nor so grave and 
weighty as in the instances of the sublime. They stand, so to 
speak, between them ; act vividly, steadily, and energetically ; 
and require, therefore, for a thorough reception, primitive 
forces of correspondingly sufficient vividness and energy. 

From this explanation we may learn the following two 
things: 1. Animals may and do have sensations of the agree- 
able, but never attain to feelings of the beautiful or sublime 
(although the same stimulants act upon them as upon man)> 
because their primitive forces lack the energy necessary to 
retain a definite development as independent vestiges. It is 
by the simultaneous excitation of the external stimuli, and 
vestiges shedding all their concentrated light upon the present 
impressions, that a simple percipient act is elevated in man to 
a full, conscious act. As, however, animals often possess the 
qualities of acuteness and vividness in a very high degree, 
they undoubtedly are capable of forming various sensations of 
the agreeable, as daily observation teaches. 2. In man we have 
observed (3) that the lower senses lack energy, and thus it is 
intelligible why we never form the feelings of the beautiful or 



120 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 

the sublime in the sphere of smell, taste or vital senses. 
"A beautiful smell" is an exaggeration, and we never speak 
of a " sublime taste." But the feelings of the agreeable are 
very common in these senses. 

The feelings of the beautiful and sublime are called "aesthetic 
feelings" and from our former reasoning it is clear that only 
man, and in his higher senses, is capable of an aesthetic 
development. 

As one and the same mental act (compare 50) may be at the 
same time an act of conception, conation and feeling (the one 
or the other preponderating), it is clear that the feelings of 
the beautiful and sublime, of which we have spoken, are 
pleasurable conceptions (27), which have their root in the 
qualities of the primitive forces and their peculiar develop- 
ment in a certain quantitative relation of external stimuli to 
them. 

54. The Remote Factors of the ^Esthetic Feelings. 

Thus far we have explained the origin of the feelings of the 
beautiful and sublime (aesthetic feelings) only superficially. 
We have yet to answer the following questions : What is the 
real nature of these feelings? Why do some persons remain 
entirely indifferent to the presence of a beautiful or sublime 
object? W T hy is it that the same aesthetic feelings are pro- 
duced by objects so different? Why do feelings of the sub- 
lime originate in some persons more easily than feelings of 
the agreeable ? 

1. Suppose we have a violet before us, and because it has 
bloomed in such a quiet and hidden way we feel disposed to 
give it the attribute of modesty. It is clear that in this case 
we have ascribed to the violet something which, in fact, is 
derived from our own spiritual being. For whether the violet 
really is modest we do not know. But this much is certain, 
the nettle we would not call modest. We would rather feel 
inclined to call it impertinent, as it answers the slightest 
approach by a sting. Is the rose, the symbol of love, really 
inspired with that sentiment? Is the lily innocent? The 



THE REMOTE FACTORS OF THE .ESTHETIC FEELINGS. 12 L 

tulip haughty ? We do not know. But the impression we 
receive from these flowers is of such a nature that it rouses in 
us the conception and feeling of such attributes, and the dis- 
position to imagine these objects as possessed of such qualities, 
because their exterior, by its kind of impression upon us, 
corresponds with an interior of our own, and this we lend them, 
ascribe to them. We thus take a deeper view of them, inspire 
them with our own feelings and dispositions. We do this 
when w r e look upon the oak as an image of strength, upon the 
rock in the ocean as an image of constancy, upon the flow- 
ing stream as an image of the fleetness of human life, upon a 
ruin as the image of the transitoriness of earthly splendor, etc. 

In looking at things merely as they appear to our. senses, 
we receive only sensorial impressions, which may be agreeable 
or disagreeable. When we, however, underlie these sensorial 
impressions with feelings and dispositions of our own mental 
life, as in the foregoing instances ; when we thus deepen our 
views by transferring our interior life to external objects, we 
then consider them aesthetically. We then penetrate, so to speak, 
beyond their exterior, and mentally translate them as they 
might be in their peculiar interior constitution. Now, all 
which, by this combination of external and internal views, is 
capable of producing in us a mild, gentle pleasure, as the rose 
and the lily, fine country scenery, etc., we call beautiful; while 
all which, by a more energetic projection of our person- 
ality, causes an intenser feeling of pleasure, like the rock in 
the ocean, the starry heavens, thunder and lightning, etc., we 
call sublime. In the first instance our primitive forces are 
pleasurably excited ; in the second they are energetically 
exalted. This is the real nature of the aesthetic feelings. 

2. What kind of persons will remain indifferent in presence 
of beautiful and sublime objects ? Such as are not developed 
sufficiently to be capable of underlaying sensorial impressions 
with feelings and dispositions of their own, as children and 
uneducated people. Children perceive only by the senses. 
The modifications of modesty, constancy, and innocence, have 
not developed into consciousness, and cannot, therefore, be 
combined with the mere sensorial perception of the violet, 
9 



122 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 

rock, lily, etc. ; consequently these impressions remain merely 
as agreeable, and do not attain the character of beauty or sub- 
limity. Uneducated persons may possess these modifications, 
but having never been led or trained to underlie their senso- 
rial perceptions with personal attributes, they cannot experi- 
ence feelings of the beautiful and sublime, and remain, there- 
fore, indifferent, or at best only agreeably excited, in the 
presence of beautiful and sublime objects. They are aesthetically 
uneducated, for without special spiritual culture the appre- 
ciation of beauty and sublimity remains undeveloped. 

3. Why is it that the same aesthetic feelings are produced by 
objects so different? According to 49 we know that for the 
production of a feeling there is a basis or measure required, 
whereupon a given impression can be measured. If this basis 
be altered, the feeling will be correspondingly altered — other 
measures, other measurements (52). Now, in consequence of 
the development of man, his earlier measures must necessarily 
change in the course of time. The pictures, poems, pieces of 
music, etc., which we considered beautiful when young, do not 
come up to the more perfect types we attain by advancing 
education. The pictures, etc., which delighted our boyhood, 
are now measured upon a basis so different that we wonder 
how it was ever possible for us to have found them beautiful. 
The things have not changed, our ideals have changed. The 
little girl imagines herself smiled upon by her doll, because 
she transfers her own happy state to it. A young lady of 
twenty has gained, through her knowledge of men and affairs, 
a measure altogether different — stands upon a higher plane — 
and this prevents her from transferring her devotions to a life- 
less doll. However charming its expression may be, she can- 
not imagine' the smiling face as endowed with life, and there- 
fore it ceases to be an object of beauty. Now we can understand 
why feelings of the beautiful and sublime may originate in 
different persons, even in the same person at different ages, 
from quite different objects ; and also w r hy the same objects, 
although unchanged, lose their character of beauty and sub- 
limity as the mind advances in culture. Persons who are 
charmed with works of a low artistic nature, and who do not 



THE REMOTE FACTORS OF THE ESTHETIC FEELINGS. 123 

appreciate those of higher value, show that they are still on a 
low plane of mental culture. 

4. Why in some persons do feelings of the sublime originate 
more easily than feelings of the agreeable ? 

Feelings of the sublime are never found in persons with 
weak and dull primitive forces. This formation requires a 
high degree of energy and acuteness (53). He who is in pos- 
session of such qualities will naturally acquire a rich, deep and 
energetic mental development. Upon the basis of such highly 
developed mental modifications, mere sensorial impressions 
will be felt as flat and common ; and thus the feelings of the 
agreeable, which in such cases would originate in less strongly 
developed minds, cannot come into existence. When, how- 
ever, on the contrary, such minds are acted upon by objects 
which, in consequence either of the kind or the abundance of 
their excitants, correspond to this elevated state of mind, a 
substratum of suitable modifications will be present, and feel- 
ings of the sublime will originate readily. Agreeable feelings 
we find, therefore, most predominant in children and persons 
not of very strong capacities, inasmuch as vivid and acute 
primitive forces are sufficient for their formation. By a cor- 
responding mental development, however, in consequence of a 
certain degree of energy of their primitive forces, persons of 
lesser capacity will also attain to feelings of the beautiful and 
sublime in their way. This beauty and sublimity, however? 
will be of a lower grade compared to that which develops 
itself in deeper minds, to whom the beauties and sublimities 
of the former must appear rather flat and imperfect. Still it 
is a necessary mental development in either case, and confirms 
only the truth of the old proverb : De gustibus non est dispu- 
tandum. 

Impressions acting overwhelmingly, as for instance, those 
produced by a heavy thunder-storm, may and do prevent in 
some persons the formation of aesthetic feelings altogether. 
Such impressions, which by their violence are capable of pro- 
ducing in the strong mind the sublime feeling of greatness and 
power, waken in the weak the consciousness of their own help- 
lessness to such a degree as to fill the soul with fear and terror. 



124 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 

Condensing the above-given explanations, we may re-state 
briefly the points as follows : 

1. ^Esthetic feelings are the result of external impressions 
and internal developments. They originate in this way: 
Not satisfied with the mere external appearance of things, we 
try to penetrate into their inner being and life, by transferring 
our interior into theirs; id est, we imagine their inner being 
and life analogous to ours, and thus spiritualize mere sensorial 
impressions. 

2. Such translations must be done correctly, that is, we 
must underlie objects only with such feelings and dispositions 
as correspond accurately with their impressions upon us, 
which impressions alone represent the interior of external 
things. 

3. Nevertheless, mistakes will frequently occur in such 
processes, for the reason that the interior of external things 
remains forever hidden to us. We can merely suppose them 
to be endowed with certain qualities, and as each one who 
forms an aesthetic perception can underlie only what is in 
■him, we see that the correctness of such processes depends 
also upon the grade of mental development to which the 
observer has attained. If now, as we have seen, the stand- 
ard of mental development has its root especially in the 
qualities of the primitive forces, it is easily seen that the degree 
of aesthetic perfection depends upon the degree of energy and 
acuteness one possesses in his primitive forces; but these 
qualities also require training and education. 

4. Agreeable feelings originate without the need of such 
translations. They are simply the result of pleasurable stimuli, 
and consequently we cannot call them aesthetic feelings. 
Common language frequently calls beautiful that which is 
merely pleasant or agreeable. It is a very wide-spread disposi- 
tion to exaggerate pleasure as well as pain. Lower degrees of 
the beautiful we signify by the terms : Pretty, nice, fair, charm- 
ing, lovely, naive, etc. Allied to the sublime are feelings, 
as the noble, the dignified, the grave, the splendid, the mag- 
nificent, the solemn, etc. 

5. ^Esthetic feelings are free from self-interest, because 



FEELINGS OF STRENGTH. 125 

they carry satisfaction within themselves. They are pleasur- 
able conceptions that appease and elevate the mind, and to 
work them into shape and form is the artist's greatest delight. 
^Esthetic feelings may, and frequently do, originate in the 
absence of external objects, and even painful sensations may 
be sublimated into aesthetic feelings, of which, however, 
it is not the place here to speak fully. (Compare Beneke's 
Pragmatische Psychologies II., p. 222 et seq.) A very excellent 
explanation of the aesthetic feelings may also be found in 
the w r ork : " Das iEsthetische nach seinem eigenthiimlichen 
Grundwesen und seiner paedagogischen Bedeutung darge- 
stellt." Eine gekronte Preisschrift von Friedrich Dittes. 
Leipzig, Julius Klinkhard, 1854. 

55. Feelings of Strength of the Several Mental 
Modifications. 

In consequence of the attraction of like to like, each new 
impression is added to the vestiges of former similar impres- 
sions ( 6, 9, 10), thus adding to the number of similar ves- 
tiges previously obtained. In this respect all mental modifi- 
cations vary more or less. Some consist of few, others of 
many similar vestiges. Things which are constantly around 
us should, therefore, accumulate the greatest number of ves- 
tiges, and they do so, generally speaking, provided each new 
impression gives rise to a distinct change of corresponding 
primitive forces. However, this is not always the case. Such 
impressions are usually received so fleetingly that a thorough 
transformation of new primitive forces does not ensue, and 
thus it becomes intelligible why such modifications do not 
grow furthei in strength. What is true of common percep- 
tions applies equally to pleasurable conceptions and desires. 
The oftener these acts have been repeated, the more must 
the number of their vestiges have been increased, provided 
always that these acts were perfect enough to insure a 
thorough transformation. 

Nobody can tell the number of vestiges his several modi- 
fications consist of ; but by closer observation we are able to 



12G THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 

distinguish with tolerable certainty those modifications which 
consist of few, from those which consist of many vestiges. Let 
me illustrate: If we recall to consciousness a conception which 
is the product of a great number of perfect impressions, and at 
the same time another consisting of only a few, we will feel the 
difference between the two at once, the first manifesting itself as 
the stronger of the two. This is equally true of desires. The 
desire consisting of most vestiges will always predominate 
over another of less number of vestiges, so that if we see a man 
preferring to spend his last penny in the bar-room instead of 
saving and applying it to relieve the w T ants of his family, we 
may safely infer which, of his desires is the stronger, his desire 
for strong drink or his desire to do his duty to his family. We 
may say in short : That mental modification which consists of a 
greater number of vestiges always manifests itself with a feeling of 
greater strength than another consisting of a less number of vestiges, 
when they rise side by side into consciousness. 

The number of vestiges a mental modification consists of 
may be figuratively called its " space." Hence we may say : This 
mental modification fills a greater, the other a smaller, space 
in the soul. This term accords well with expressions of ordi- 
nary language, as for instance : "This one idea filled his whole 
soul, there w T as no room for anything else," meaning that 
this idea, care, or whatever it was, w T as very strong, and con- 
sisted of a great number of vestiges. Space and strength desig- 
nate then the same thing, and signify the number of vestiges 
of which a mental modification consists. 

56. Feelings of Clearness, Indistinctness, and Obscurity 

of Conceptions. 

We all know from experience that whatever we know w r e 
had to learn. When the little boy sees for the first time an 
A, it appears to him as a rather strange figure, and remains so 
for a while, until many perceptions have united their similar 
vestiges and a clear conception of it arises in his mind. From 
that time on nobody could make him believe that he did not 
know the A, or that A sounded 0. By the union of so many 



CLEARNESS, INDISTINCTNESS AND OBSCURITY. 127 

vestiges it has attained a clearness of consciousness, and to 
practice such a quid pro quo upon the boy would be a vain 
attempt. With a beginner in the A-B-Cs, on the contrary, 
we might have success. In him only a few vestiges of the A 
perception have arisen, which cannot possibly yet constitute a 
clear consciousness of the A. Compared with the conception 
which he has of his playthings, it is vague, indistinct, dim. 
Therefore we find that children, in the first few weeks of their 
attendance upon school, frequently confound different letters 
with one another. Most frequently is this the case when the 
teacher has been in too great haste to accomplish too quickly 
what naturally requires more time. Of course, the discovery 
of such confusion in the head of the pupil must be quite un- 
pleasant to the teacher; and I have no doubt that often it is 
unjustly attributed to the child's stupidity, while, in fact, it is 
entirely the teacher's fault, the instructor not understanding 
the nature of mental development. Such confusion is, indeed, 
easily explainable. Some letters have a great similarity to each 
other, and we know that not only the like, but also the similar, 
coalesce. Thus it happens that in the great hurry with 
which the different letters were brought before the child, the 
similar of the m and n, the a and o, the u and v, etc., united 
likewise indiscriminately in the soul of the child, thus mixing 
like with unlike vestiges. We find such mixtures of like and 
unlike vestiges often enough, even in grown people. Many 
are not able to distinguish lead from tin, or a composition of 
low metals from silver (counterfeits would otherwise have a 
poor chance of being brought into circulation). Others cannot 
discern rye from wheat, quinces from apples, hemlock from 
parsley, etc. Even bats have often been taken for birds and 
whales for fishes. In these cases there are like and unlike 
constituents mixed together. Only after closer investigations 
and comparisons could the like alone join and the unlike be 
separated. 

So long as such unlike elements are kept together for the 
want of better knowledge, they may manifest themselves 
according to the number of vestiges they consist of, with great 
strength ; but when closer observation shows them to be of a 



128 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 

mixed character, and they arise with another modification of 
pure composition into consciousness, they will be felt im- 
mediately as obscure or confused. 

The feeling of strength, in regard to conceptions varies, then, 
in this manner : A great number of like vestiges gives a 
feeling of clearness ; a small number of like vestiges produces 
a feeling of dimness, indistinctness; while a mixture of like and 
unlike vestiges is characterized by a feeling of obscurity or 
confusion. These truths are also applicable to pleasurable 
conceptions. 

57. Valuation — Estimation of Worth. 

We have already in 38 seen why or when we consider ob- 
jects (persons and things) as good or evil. However, a very 
important condition, that of feeling, could not be spoken of at 
that stage of investigation, although acts of feeling are con- 
tinually associated with these processes. We will be able now 
to give a better insight into what is signified by the terms good 
and evil. 

Suppose a bird to be pleasurably exciting us by his color, or 
song. The bird causes thereby a pleasurable modification 
which differs from others of less full stimulation. During 
their co-existence in consciousness, the pleasurable modifica- 
tion is measured upon the basis of the other, or is felt as a 
fuller stimulation. It is thus elevated to & feeling of pleasure, 
and the object from which this pleasurable stimulation ema- 
nates is valued as good. If other modifications were serv- 
ing as basis, our valuation might be altogether different (52). 
However, we may say : We value an object (according to the 
feeling of pleasure it causes) by the kind, of impression it makes 
upon us, and consider it accordingly a (greater or lesser) good. 

Let us use fire for the purpose of illustration. Its action 
upon us may be so beneficent that we value it as a great good. 
On the other hand, it may burn us, it may destroy our prop- 
erty, etc., thus causing feelings of pain of greater or less 
intensity, and we then consider it an evil. In like manner all 
other things, in the degree in which they cause feelings of 
pain, we consider evil. 



VALUATION ESTIMATION OF WORTH. 129 

Hence, our valuation of things depends upon their action 
upon us. If they cause feelings of pleasure, we value them as 
good ; if they cause feelings of pain, we consider them as 
evil; and as, according to 38, all things affect us more or less 
in the one way or the other (those even which produce 
a full stimulation), we may define the valuation of things in 
general as the sum of all pleasurable and painful modifications, 
which originate first as mere sensations in consequence of the differ- 
ent kinds of stimulation with which external things act upon us (25), 
then gradually, by multiplication, grow to self-conscious modifica- 
tions, which, by comparison or measurement with others, manifest 
themselves as feelings either of pleasure or of pain. 

What we call good and evil is, therefore, nothing but the 
feeling of the value of things and persons, caused by their 
kind of action upon us. So far as this action upon us 
(pleasurable or painful) remains in independent vestiges, its 
reproduction will be either a pleasurable or a painful conception. 
So far, however, as the primitive forces retain their conative 
power (compare 27 and 34), it will manifest itself either as 
desire or aversion. 

So long as our feeling of the value of things consists merely 
in pleasurable or painful conceptions, such conceptions do not 
exert any influence upon our actions. They manifest them- 
selves merely as acquired (pleasurable or painful) modifica- 
tions, and constitute in general our practical wisdom or pru- 
dence (in contradistinction to theoretical knowledge). When, 
however, our valuations of things manifest themselves in 
the form of desires or aversions, they become the basis, that is, 
the motive for our actions, which may be good or bad. Thus 
we see that mental modifications representing the value of 
things, may manifest themselves in three different forms: 
1, as conceptions; or, 2, as desires or aversions; and, 3, as 
feeling. Feelings are the immediate consciousness of the 
difference between the present impression of a thing or its 
conception, and other modifications which are conscious at the 
same time. 



130 the emotional sphere, or sphere of the feelings. 

58. Gradation of Good and Evil. 

Although feelings are merely the immediate consciousness 
of the difference between mental modifications, nevertheless, as 
the factors of mental modifications during their co-existence 
in consciousness are conjoined by mobile elements into groups, 
they endure in these groups; and it therefore follows that if 
one factor is roused into consciousness, the other is likewise 
roused, and in this manner the same feeling is reproduced 
(39- and 48). We may speak in this way of feelings "ac- 
quired" ready for use. Furthermore, as each new impression 
modifies void primitive forces, which as new vestiges add a 
new supply to the similar vestiges already acquired, it is clear 
that by such increase of the one factor, its difference from the 
other must become greater. The increased factor must mani- 
fest- itself as increased, and the feeling, therefore, must gain in 
strength. This fact applies as well to the feelings of pleasure 
as to those of pain. 

Suppose, now, we meet a stranger. How shall we estimate 
him ? At the first instant we would estimate him as we 
would any other stranger. We measure his worth with the 
same measure we have for men in general, so long as he 
shows nothing extraordinary in manner or character. The 
impression he makes upon us corresponds to this measure- 
ment. But suppose w T e were thrown in his company for a 
longer time ; that we gradually discovered a great many good 
qualities in him ; or, in other words, that in the course of time 
he had produced in us say 1,000 pleasurable stimulations, and 
consequently, a pleasurable modification of 1,000 vestiges; 
would he not now stand much higher in our estimation than 
a great many other men, higher even than those of w T hom we 
possessed only 100 or 500 pleasurable stimulations ? Indeed, 
his value in our eyes would increase, just in the ratio as his 
influence in producing pleasurable stimulations upon us in- 
creases in the course of time ; for what gradually increases its 
beneficial influence upon us, grows in the same ratio to be 
gradually a higher good for us, because the multiplication of 
the pleasurable stimulations causes so strong a modification 



GRADATION OF GOOD AND EVIL. 131 

that its difference from others must manifest itself as a strong 
feeling of pleasure. On the contrary, had this person affected 
us disagreeably, our valuation would be a different one. In- 
stead of a feeling of pleasure we would have a feeling of pain, 
and thus we would consider him as an evil, although we may, 
for all that, be far from hating him, because other modifica- 
tions of strength keep us above this feeling. We might, never- 
theless, pity his perversity and withdraw from his company ; 
and such a feeling would be the stronger the more unpleasant 
the impressions we had received from him. This is also true 
in other respects. If we had been unpleasantly acted upon 
by walking a bad road caused by rainy weather 1,000 times 
(I choose arbitrary numbers), and only 100 times by walk- 
ing a bad road caused by snow, we would surely not fancy 
either of them. The measure we apply for their valuation is 
the conception of a good dry road, and the other roadways 
will be felt as inferior and unpleasant. But as the first of 
these modifications consists of 1,000 vestiges, it would surely be 
felt as the stronger of the two, and we will fear a bad road 
caused by rain more than a bad road caused by snow, or, in 
other words, we consider the first as a greater evil than the 
second. The pioneer might laugh at us on hearing us com- 
plain of our dirty roads, for compared with the knee-deep mud 
through which he sometimes has to wade they are splendid. 
He applies, we see, an altogether different measure. We may 
say then : Whether we consider anything as a greater or lesser good 
or evil, depends upon the strength of the pleasurable or painful mo- 
dification it has caused by its action upon us, and upon the basis or 
measure with which it is compared. We gain thus a norm for 
the gradation of all good and evil. We can easily see why 
some persons value things highly, or consider evil, which 
things others look upon with perfect indifference. We can 
understand now why the little girl cries over the loss of her 
doll, in spite of its broken face ; or why some lady feels quite 
unhappy because her new dress does not agree entirely with 
the latest fashion, however absurd this fashion may be; why 
one man eagerly ransacks all dung-hills and jumps for joy if 
he has found a little, insignificant insect, or another walks for 



132 

miles to hunt up a small plant; why the one travels around 
the earth and another remains at home during his whole life- 
time. 

People often say they cannot understand how persons can 
enjoy certain things. True, they cannot understand it ; that 
is, they are not capable of appreciating the feelings which in 
others have conditioned the kind of valuation criticised, 
because these things have either not acted upon them, or not 
to so pleasurable a degree as they have upon the others. If 
such action had occurred fully the}' would very readily realize 
this kind of valuation, and would not wonder if in some per- 
sons they find great aversion to certain things upon which 
they themselves are accustomed to look favorably. We again 
come to the same result : The valuation of different things depends 
entirely upon the strength of the pleasurable or painful modifications 
they have caused by their action upon us, and the measure or basis 
upon which their difference is felt. 

59. The Gradation of Good and Evil is the Same in 
all Human Beings, Because that Gradation is Con- 
ditioned by the Inborn Nature of the Primitive 
Forces. — True Valuation. 

In the preceding chapters we have seen how and why we 
learn to consider different things good or evil. In 7 we 
learn that vestiges are the more perfect and lasting the more 
energetic the primitive forces are (which, by the influence 
of external stimuli have been developed into vestiges). We 
must bear in mind that vestiges are nothing but objectively 
developed primitive forces in their latent state. The most 
perfect vestiges, therefore, we find in the higher senses of man 
— in the faculties of sight, hearing and touch (8). 

The union of many like vestiges produces strong modifica- 
tions. But, supposing that in a developed mind all its modi- 
fications consisted of the same number of vestiges, there would 
even then necessarily be a great difference in strength between 
those of the higher and those of the lower senses, for the simple 
reason that in the lower, as the less energetic, vestiges are not 



TRUE VALUATION. 133 

modified in such a degree of perfection as in the higher senses. 
A modification of 100 vestiges in the lower senses must, there- 
fore, be far from reaching the strength of one in the higher 
.senses consisting of the same number and also much more 
perfect vestiges. In the lower senses the impression fades 
away ; in the higher senses the impression is retained unal- 
tered ; that is, by it the primitive forces have been developed 
so characteristically and lastingly, that long afterward the 
impression may be reproduced in consciousness without the 
aid of external stimuli, in a perfection almost equal to a per- 
ception. 

What is true of modifications of strength is true also of 
modifications of debility. No matter how the primitive forces 
be developed, whether in the direction of perfection or defec- 
tiveness, the vestiges of either development remain more perfect 
in the higher than in the lower senses. 

From this fact it follows that feelings of the higher senses (of 
pleasure or of pain) must manifest themselves with greater strength 
than those of the lower senses, provided the number of vestiges in 
both instances be the same. 

Knowing now, as has been detailed in 8, that the primitive 
forces in all men gradate in the same manner, as regards 
their tenacity, from the higher to the lower senses ; knowing 
also that the external stimuli are everywhere the same, acting 
according to their nature upon all human beings in like 
manner; and knowing, finally, that in all human souls the 
same law of attraction of like to like produces homogeneous 
units (9), we may safely infer that these like factors must produce 
like products ; that, therefore, the feelings must gradate in regard 
to their strength in all human beings in the same manner. A feel- 
ing of pleasure or pain, of the higher senses, must in all men 
have a greater strength than one in the lower senses, provided 
always, that the number of vestiges in both be alike, and that 
the basis w T hereupon they are felt remains the same, which 
latter condition is, indeed, a condition of all acquired, station- 
ary feelings (58). 

If now, as we have seen in 56 and 57, we value a thing 
according to the strength of the feeling of pleasure or pain it 



134 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 

has produced by its action upon us, it follows that there exists 
a gradation of good and evil tvhich is the same for all human being*. 
That is, all objects (persons and things) affecting the higher 
senses (pleasurably or painfully) must in all human beings 
gain a higher valuation than those affecting only the lower 
senses. This gradation of good and evil must necessarily be 
the same for all human beings, because it is conditioned in all 
by the same factors, namely, by the same gradation of retentive 
power of the primitive forces, by the same external elements, 
and the same law which unites similar vestiges into homo- 
geneous aggregates. 

We thus come to a general norm for all valuation, which 
places all good and evil in a strict order, an order which is 
conditioned by the very nature of the mind itself and the 
things acting upon it. A correspondence of our valuation to 
this natural gradation of good and evil, we call the true or 
correct valuation; and inasmuch as the valuation of things 
when reproduced in the form of desires, constitutes the motives 
for our actions (51), we find in this natural norm the highest 
moral law, or the fundamental principle of morals, which may be 
expressed in the form of a commandment: " Thoushalt value 
everything according to its rank in the natural gradation of 
good and evil;" or, applied to a special case: "Thoushalt 
always do that which, according to the true valuation, lies 
highest in the natural gradation of good. " Accordingly, prefer 
an enjoyment of the higher senses to one of the lower, a lasting 
perfection of the mind to a transient pleasure, the good of a 
whole community to thine own personal interest ; for what 
benefits thousands ranks much higher in value than what 
benefits only thy own single self. In short, prefer always the 
high to the low, the noble to the ignoble, the lasting to the 
transient. There is no moral law, howsoever it may be 
expressed, or from whence it may originate, which demands 
anything higher or better than this. 



apparent contradictions. — false valuation. 135 

60. Apparent Contradictions. — False Valuation. 

Daily experience does not seem to agree with the above 
statements. We find quite often lower pleasures preferred to 
higher ones — good eating and drinking to mental perfection, 
riches to honesty, selfish aggrandizement to public good — con- 
ditions, indeed, which do not seem to prove the necessity that 
all men must value the higher as higher, and the lower as 
lower, and act accordingly. 

We must, however, remember that we cannot speak of this 
moral norm as a something the mind brings already developed 
into this world. 

There are no innate powers of any kind beside the primi- 
tive forces. What has been asserted and what is to be 
proven is that such a norm is merely conditioned by the 
nature of the mind — that is, its laws and gradation of the 
primitive forces, which are alike in all human beings. This 
norm, then, is not a preformation but a predestination, which, 
in the course of development, may be subject to various 
deviations and deficiencies in the single individual. It is here 
as it is with the norms of logical thinking and correct gram- 
matical speaking. For both mental operations there are norms 
of general validity, but they are not in all minds developed 
with equal perfection. This premised, we shall find no dif- 
ficulty in solving the above-stated apparent contradictions. 

A feeling of pleasure or pain attains only to a greater and 
lasting strength if its one factor, the pleasurable or painful 
modification, has originated in the higher senses, and con- 
sists of numerous vestiges (58). But when, for instance, 
indulgent parents allow the low gustatory forces of their child 
to be predominantly stimulated by dainties, and neglect to 
perfect its higher senses, we need not wonder that, notwith- 
standing the naturally greater energy of the higher senses, the 
pleasurable modifications of the lower will by far outweigh in 
strength those of the higher, on account of their more numerous 
vestiges. The development of the higher senses, which even in 
such cases originates, and must originate, is but a feeble one, 
while that of the lower attains a plentitude of vestiges that 



136 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 

will always overbalance the naturally greater but undeveloped 
energy of the higher senses. We need not wonder, then, 
when in life we find that minds thus developed prefer mere 
sensual pleasures to higher enjoyments. It follows that, by an 
accumulation of a larger number of vestiges, the modifications in the 
lower senses must eventually predominate in strength over those of 
the higher, although the lower senses possess by nature only a low 
degree of tenacity. Such a state of things is surely wrong, inas- 
much as the development of the higher should always over- 
balance that of the lower; but, nevertheless, we find this 
wrong does exist and originates what we may term a perverted 
order in the normal gradation of good and evil — an order, in 
consequence of which things that gratify the lower senses are 
valued more than such as perfectuate the higher. We are 
now able to understand how and why a false valuation of things, 
or a perverted practical view of good and evil, originates in so 
many minds. The true valuation, or a correct practical norm, 
has, in such instances, not been developed at all, or not prop- 
erly ; not because of a natural deficiency of the innate primi- 
tive forces, but on account of a faulty education or unfortunate 
circumstances. But such perversion of normal valuation 
needs no less time for its development than the acquirement of 
a correct valuation. No one ever became bad at once, and no 
one ever became good at once. No one can abruptly be 
brought from an ignorant to a scientific state of mind. These 
conditions are all the result of slow, gradual development, 
as I believe has been sufficiently shown. Sudden conver- 
sions from bad to good are, therefore, not possible. Where 
they are said to have taken place, for instance, in criminals, 
by the impressive exhortations of a spiritual adviser, we ought 
to be rather careful in considering a contrite condition of the 
mind, in sight of the gallows, as a total change from wicked- 
ness to godliness. The gallows out of sight might easily 
prove this sudden godliness " a standpoint soon overcome." 
But some persons have really been converted from a dissolute 
life by sudden changes, as their whole life afterward has proved 
beyond any doubt. On examining such cases w r e will always 
find a nucleus of good of earlier date, w T hich merely had been 



IMMORALITY. MORAL RUDENESS. 137 

covered over by the exuberant growth of low desires and low 
tendencies, which good, by some soul-stirring event, has 
regained its consciousness and natural power. But even when 
the moral norm has come in the main to a correct develop- 
ment, there will still exist in most men valuations not entirely 
corresponding to it. Even the best of us are not so perfect 
but that false or incorrect valuations have been developed. 

61. The Feeling of Strength in Desires and Aversions. 

All men acquire, in the course of time, a more or less exten- 
sive knowledge of the world. By the various impressions the 
things make upon men's senses, they gain a practical knowledge 
of the value of things. So far, however, as these impressions 
originate pleasurable or painful modifications, they create 
desires and aversions that become the basis of, or motives for, 
our actions. Our valuation of the things may manifest itself, 
therefore, in two distinct forms. It is reproduced merely as 
valuation ; that is, as the feeling of the value of the various 
things which we have gained by their actions upon us, and 
which, if expressed in words or sentences, shows either our 
wisdom or our folly ; or it is reproduced in the form of desires 
or aversions, of which impressions are the necessary causes. 
(Compare 57, also 27, 33, 34.) Valuations then become the 
basis of, or the motives for, our actions. In either case their 
strength will depend upon the number of vestiges of which 
they consist, according to the law that all that is similar unites 
in one. If it is a valuation, it will be felt the stronger the 
oftener we have produced it. If it is a desire or aversion, its 
strength will manifest itself according to the number of 
vestiges of which it is the aggregate. We note, therefore, dif- 
fering degrees of strength in these conative manifestations, even 
in common language, by such expressions as these : Inclina- 
tion, disinclination, disgust, disposition, propensity, passion, etc. 

62. Immorality. — Moral Rudeness. 

The oftener certain desires are repeated, the greater they 
grow in strength ; and we may easily understand why such 
10 



138 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELING8. 

developments come in direct opposition to the moral norm, 
or the true valuation of good and evil. Take, for example, a 
desire for a particular good, which, on the scale of true valua- 
tion, stands twenty times higher than some other good. 
Suppose the desire for the latter to have been renewed forty 
times, consisting thus of a forty times greater number of 
vestiges than the single desire. It is clear that the forty- 
vestiged desire will act with double the strength of the former, 
notwithstanding the fact that it is on a much lower range in 
the scale of true valuation. Taking it for granted that the 
higher was developed in full perfection, and that it received 
its proper valuation, even then the lower desire would pre- 
dominate by virtue of its more numerous vestiges. This 
statement, accepted, proves that the strength of a desire, being 
derived from the number of its vestiges, is altogether of a 
subjective-accidental nature. The fact that a desire has fre- 
quently been repeated gives it a greater strength only in 
me; in somebody else the same desire may have been de- 
veloped altogether differently or not at all, or even in myself 
it might, under different circumstances, have attained a much 
less or a still greater multiplication of vestiges. In short, the 
strength of a desire derived from the .number of its vestiges 
has nothing to do with the objective value of the thing, the 
impressions of which have caused the desire. Its objective 
value may stand quite low on the normal scale of good; but 
an undue repetition of pleasurable stimuli may cause a very 
strong desire, so strong that it becomes a deviation from the 
moral norm, or from what is right. 

Accordingly, we find many persons who are well aware of 
the much higher value of health than of a mere transient 
pleasurable gustatory stimulation, the gratification of which 
frequently impairs health. When tempted, however, they 
cannot resist the desire. The true valuation is here over- 
powered by the excessive strength of an immoderate desire (or 
aversion). Such deviation from the moral norm we call im- 
morality or corrupt will. 

In summing up what has been explained in the previous 
paragraphs, we come to these results: Deviations from the 



IMMORALITY. — MORAL RUDENESS. 139 

true valuation of good and evil (59) may develop in two dif- 
ferent forms: Either as false valuation, when, by undue ac- 
cumulation of vestiges, single feelings of pleasure or of pain gain 
a disproportionate strength, known as folly or a perverted 
practical view of the world; or, as immorality, when, by undue 
multiplication of vestiges, single desires or aversions gain an 
excessive strength, and thus corrupt our will and pervert our 
actions from good ones into bad ones. 

From these two forms of deviations from the true valuation 
of good and evil moral rudeness differs essentially. Moral 
rudeness is that uncultivated state of mind in which true valua- 
tion has not been developed at all, or not to the height the 
general standpoint of civilization demands. Children are in 
this condition. Children must first acquire the various values 
of good and evil, from the lowest personal profits to the 
highest human interests, and they acquire them the more 
easily and correctly the better and more advanced the persons 
are by whom they are surrounded, or by whom they are 
gradually brought up, either intentionally (by education), or 
unintentionally (by the mere force of example). 

This explains at once the varions grades and shades of 
moral culture in different classes of people of even civilized 
nations, and the almost total want of it among savages. Chil- 
dren are not only the receivers of what has been accumulated 
by the progressive development of nations for thousands of 
years, but they are also themselves products of this long chain 
of progressive development. They are drawn up and pushed 
forward by external as well as by internal agencies, all of 
which agencies, however, exist variously distributed among 
different classes of people. The poor savage child lacks these 
advantages almost entirely. The culture it receives from its 
tribe is extremely limited, and it is itself the offspring of an 
ancestry so poorly organized that progress in the child alone 
is scarcely ever recognizable. We see, therefore, a steady gra- 
dation in moral culture from savage rudeness to the philan- 
thropic sentiments of the nineteenth century. 

Greatly advanced as this latter may be, in comparison with 
that of former ages, it has, by far, not reached all possible per- 



140 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELIK 

fection. Indeed, moral as well as intellectual perfection is 
without limit, and is never wholly attainable by any one age 
or individual. 



63. Maliciousness, Wickedness. 

Maliciousness or wickedness is a form of immorality com- 
plex and serious in nature. The malignant feel displeased at 
the elation (the joy, good fortune, the intellectual and moral 
superiority) of others, and become pleased at their pain, sorrow, 
misfortune, or want. This is obviously a reversion of natural 
feelings. The pleasure or pain of others we conceive on the 
basis of our own feelings of pleasure or pain, and we must, there- 
fore, feel others' pain as pain, and others' joy as joy. What 
reverses this natural order of things? Even in the rude 
savage we recognize sympathetic feelings, and the immoral 
(notwithstanding the excessive strength of desire) is not at 
all hindered from appreciating others' pleasure or pain as 
such. The malignant must be selfish; that is, the group of 
mental modifications relating to himself have grown to such 
strength that they far overbalance the group of modifica- 
tions relating to his fellow-beings. In consequence of this 
immoderate strength of the self group, the conditions of others 
are perceived faintly and superficially, and are not measured 
upon the present conscious modifications of the selfish, but 
merely serve as a basis for the measurement of them. Herein 
consists the reversion. 

In the presence of a perception of pleasure in others, personal 
conscious excitations, if they are not of a highly pleasurable 
nature themselves, are felt as inferior or as pain; while, in 
the presence of a perception of pain in others, the personal 
conscious excitations appear superior, and are felt as pleasure. 
In the same way we may have a feeling of regret at the sight 
of a gain we expected to be doubly great, or we may feel 
glad in bad luck, when we consider that the luck might easily 
have been much worse. It depends altogether on the measure 
or basis whereupon the present conscious excitation is meas- 
ured. The measure or basis is alwavs the less conscious 



141 

modification, while the most prominent modification in con- 
sciousness is that which is measured and which conditions the 
feelings. (Compare 48 and 52.) 

This reversion of natural feelings alone does not constitute 
the character of maliciousness. The malicious must also be 
embittered; that is, in consequence of many disappointments, 
failures, misfortunes, etc., merited or unmerited, there have 
arisen a number of modifications of debility (33), and these 
fill his mind with ill-humor. "Depend upon it," says an 
American author, " in nine cases out of ten, the evil tongue 
belongs to a disappointed man." This bitterness must become 
so predominating in the mind that no modifications of strength 
will arrest it. Transient bitterness may even arise in other- 
wise benevolent persons, and during the duration of this 
bitterness such persons may be overcome by a feeling of envy 
on seeing others gain, without merit or labor, what they them- 
selves have been earnestly striving for in vain for a long time. 
But this feeling soon passes over. Bitterness is not a lasting 
trait of their minds ; it is only the consequence of a transient 
excitation, conditioned by external circumstances. Modifica- 
tions of strength soon prevail, and the benevolent disposition 
is restored. Not so with the malicious. His mind is wanting 
in such correctives, and he continues in his reversion of 
natural feelings, which reversions gradually, by repetition, 
become a disposition with him. 

A third fact must be added. The malicious seeks the cause 
of his disappointments, failures, misfortunes, etc. — in short 
the cause of his own subjective bitterness — outside himself, in 
others, as if others were to blame for his difficulties. In his 
selfishness he overlooks his own faults, and turns the conse- 
quences thereof over to his fellow-beings. He perverts the 
comparison between his self-group and altruistic groups, and 
gives his maliciousness direction. It appears to him that the 
good fortune, preference, etc., of another is not merited ; that 
the misfortune, the misery, the want, etc., of another is indeed 
merited, because, in his embittered state, he considers another 
as the cause of his own misery! These are the three moral 
deviations which, when combined, constitute the character of 
maliciousness. 



142 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE PEELINGS. 

Selfishness is the seed from which maliciousness grows; hut 
selfishness alone is not maliciousness. Take passion for glory 
or power, which passion often instigates war ; avarice, which 
enslaves fellow-beings; passion for honor, which overrides 
mercilessly all who are in the way. Surely all three are devia- 
tions from the moral norm, but are not maliciousness. There 
is no reversion of the natural feelings. It is only an excess of 
desire, which, in its strength, overlooks the possible unhappi- 
ly ess of others consequent upon the achievement of selfish ends. 
Unhappiness for others, however, is not desired, but the gain 
of glory, position, money, etc., is sought in spite of others' suf- 
ferings. Maliciousness, on the contrary, seeks the misery of 
others, and enjoys it. 

Bitterness of mind is the soil in which selfishness grows ; but 
an embittered state of mind alone is not maliciousness. One 
may have had a great many severe losses, misfortunes, dis- 
appointments in life, and yet not be embittered. Modifi- 
cations of strength prevent this result. Only when by the 
absence of strong correctives the mind is subdued under the 
dominion of modifications of debility, bitterness prevails. 
Even when bitterness is produced by an accidental train of 
unlucky circumstances, it may cause a continual pondering 
over the same, a scorning of all participation in any pleasure, 
an indifference to all that concerns others (even if it were of 
the highest importance), a melancholic state of mind, even 
craziness; and yet this state need not necessarily cause mali- 
ciousness. Maliciousness needs still for its complete establish- 
ment an unfavorable comparison with others, which, by frequent 
repetition, has become a disposition. We find, therefore, mali- 
ciousness most easily originating where disappointments, 
losses, etc., have been caused by others and intentionally. The 
feeling of revenge in the oppressed against the oppressor is of 
this character. It is true, too, that quite accidental conditions 
may originate such comparisons with others. For example : 
Sickness, when the sufferer grows peevish, although only 
transiently, and spiteful, irritable, even envious against those 
around him who are well and cheerful. This comparison 
mostly takes place with equals ; those much above or much 



THE FEELING OF DUTY — CONSCIENCE. > 143 

below are out of the range of it, unless brought nearer by 
special circumstances, as in the case of hate which an anarch- 
istic wretch feels against all who possess, or in the devilish 
malevolence of a tyrant, who continues to persecute his 
victims even in the dungeon. The comparison takes place at 
first in consequence of external circumstances ; by frequent 
repetition it grows to be a disposition, unless mental modifica- 
tions of a higher order prevent the formation of the disposi- 
tion. In selfishness the moral deviation consists in a rever- 
sion of natural feelings (the conditions of others serve merely 
as a basis for the state of mind). In maliciousness it con- 
sists of a perverted comparison with others. The malicious 
destroys the real good of another, in order to get rid of a mis- 
erable feeling of his own ; he enjoys the actual loss, misfortune, 
etc., of another, although he really gains nothing by it but 
the gratification of his morbid disposition. He compares his 
subjective condition on the basis of the real objective state of 
others. This occurs when, by repetition, it has become a 
disposition of the mind — the most characteristic element of 
maliciousness. 

64. The Feeling of Duty — Conscience. 

Thou shalt do this, or thou shalt not do it, often says an internal 
something in my soul, as it does in others. Thou hast done 
rightly, or thou hast done wrongly, I am distinctly conscious, 
was uttered by the inner feeling. What is this inner moni- 
tion, and how does it originate ? Is it something accidental or 
whimsical, or is it something necessary — unavoidable — a con- 
stant sequent? If one feels that his health is of a much 
higher value than a mere transient sensual pleasure, the grati- 
fication of which often ruins health, we see that in his mind 
two mental modifications are conscious : A normal valuation, 
and a desire which deviates therefrom. The first is the neces- 
sary consequence of an harmonious development of the mind, 
to which its innermost nature compels (59) ; the second is a 
modification which has arisen from pleasurable stimulations of 
the lower senses, and it is a deviation from the natural norm if 



144 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 

it has been repeated too often. This repetition depends upon 
circumstances. The strength of the desire is, therefore, acci- 
dental. Under different circumstances it might not be so 
strong, and might, therefore, not deviate from the natural 
norm (60). Thus, we may say, there are, in this case, two modi- 
fications side by side for comparison; a true valuation (a con- 
stant sequent), and an excessive desire (an accidental devia- 
tion). The difference between the two will manifest itself in 
one of the following two ways: If the true valuation is the 
basis whereupon the excessive desire is measured, we will feel 
the desire as a deviation with the admonition : Thou shalt not 
do it. If the desire is the basis on which the normal valuation 
is measured, we will feel the valuation as right with the admo- 
nition : Thou shalt act accordingly. The feeling of duty thus 
originates. Suppose, now, that in case the desire be so strong 
that it overwhelms the true valuation of health. The impulse 
of the inordinate longing will be gratified, notwithstanding 
the presence of a true valuation of health. What will be the 
consequence of such perverted action ? So soon as the gratifi- 
cation induced by indulgence in the pleasure has passed away, 
the normal valuation will again be conscious, and upon the 
restored normal basis the enjoyment of such sensual pleasure 
will be felt as ivrong — as a deviation from the moral norm. As 
common language expresses it, after such conduct we will 
have a bad conscience. Should, however, the true valuation 
prove the stronger of the two, the longing for the sensual 
pleasure will not be gratified, and this victory over a low de- 
sire will be felt as right, as corresponding to the moral norm, 
and we will have, as is commonly expressed, a good conscience. 
From this explanation we can easily see how closely related 
are duty and conscience. In fact, both are feelings, that is, meas- 
urements between true valuation and desires, which either 
precede or follow our actions. If it precedes, it w T ill be either 
admonitory or warning, according to the conformity or devia- 
tion of the desire with or from true valuation. We call this 
feeling a feeling of duty. Folloiving our actions, it will be 
approving or condemnatory, according to the correspondence 
or deviation of our action with or from the moral norm. It 



THE FEELING OF DUTY — CONSCIENCE. 145 

is called conscience, and when corresponding, a good, when 
deviating, a bad conscience, repentance or remorse. There is still 
another difference between duty and conscience, in the com- 
mon use of these terms. Of conscience we speak especially 
when the moral norm is brought in comparison with our own 
actions, while by duty or the voice of duty we understand more 
generally what the moral norm demands of all persons, so far 
as they should act under the same circumstances. We thus 
consider duty as a general rule for the action of all persons in 
special cases. 

Another question is : How far does conscience or the feeling 
of duty exist and extend in men ? In this respect we see, 
indeed, quite remarkable differences, not only in different men 
and different nations, but also in the different ages of the 
same human being and of the same nation. The savage kills 
his enemy and devours him without compunction of con- 
science ; he feels afterward as quiet and happy as any Chris- 
tian after a kind deed to his enemy. In the dark ages no- 
body (those who did were surely exceptions) thought it wrong 
to apply horrible means to force the criminal to confessions. 
The punishment for crime, or what was considered crime, was 
horrible — so horrible, that nowadays we can scarcely believe 
it. War, in the present age, although stripped of much of its 
former cruelty, is, on the whole, still barbarous. More advanced 
ages will not tolerate w T ar even in its present form. Rude 
men abuse animals. Bad men defraud, deceive, belie their 
neighbor, without feeling in the least disturbed about their 
actions. Where is conscience in such cases? Does it sleep? 
Indeed, conscience does not exist, it has not originated at all. We 
have seen above that conscience is & feeling of the difference 
between true valuation and a deviating desire. True valua- 
tion must first have originated before certain desires can be 
felt as deviating on its basis. This has not taken place in 
either of the above cited instances, to a degree in which their 
actions would be felt as wrong. Their moral culture cor- 
responds with their actions. We need not wonder at this. 
We know (62) that moral development is never complete in any 
one age or individual, but that it is growing continually to 



146 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE PEELINGS. 

higher perfection, and that its growth is without limit. We see 
that conscience and the feeling of duty exists and extends in 
men only so far as the true valuation of good and evil has been 
developed in them. So far as this development is wanting it 
cannot manifest itself either as admonitory or condemnatory. 
In short, thus far man has no conscience or feeling of duty. 
To speak, therefore, of an inborn conscience, is erroneous, if it 
is intended to signify an innate power ready for use; and it is 
just" as erroneous to ascribe to the developed mind one con- 
science, if the term is meant to signify one solitary power. On 
the contrary, man has as many consciences and feelings of 
duty as he has special feelings of his various desires upon the 
basis of his acquired true valuations. This true valuation, or 
moral norm, however, consists, as we have seen, of single 
modifications which singly serve as a measure for single 
desires only. If we take conscience in the abstract, we may 
speak of the conscience as we speak of the understanding or 
the will. 

An " erring " conscience we find where false valuations act in 
the place of true ones. It may happen that a thing of lesser 
importance than something else is estimated too high. For 
instance, when a person overvalues diligent industry and fru- 
gality to such an extent as to deprive himself of all necessary 
recreation and pleasure, or when one is painfully affected at the 
least mistake or oversight in the exercise of external politeness. 
The same error may occur on the ground of selfish narrow- 
mindedness, which may be confined to the exclusive love of 
family, or the interest in a certain rank, or order, or party, or 
sect, or particular nation. We need only think of the partiality 
in distributing offices to relatives or partisans, of the unjust crit- 
icism of public men of the same and the opposite party or sect, 
or of the character or interests of our own nation and of foreign 
nations, etc., and we find that only too easily a public conscience 
develops which not only endures moral deviations, but even 
sanctions them. It is a similar corruption of conscience when 
people censure mildly scoundrels (or praise them even as 
" smart ") who have successfully cheated communities out of 
hundreds and thousands of dollars. 



FREEDOM OF WILL AND ACCOUNTABILITY. 147 

Conscience, too, may err from an insufficient intellectual basis. 
For example, if one feels conscientiously compelled to bene- 
fit an unworthy person because he thinks him worthy; or if 
one, for the same reason, supports a lazy man who might 
much better earn money to support himself, or if one feels 
himself conscientiously bound to have inebriety routed by 
compulsory means, or another abstains from openly attacking 
a public evil for fear he might make matters worse (because 
he underrates his abilities). In this category of erring con- 
science belongs, more or less, also the punctual observance of 
external religious rites transacted merely mechanically, or the 
execution of good deeds without participation of the heart ; 
the self-tormenting denial of bodily comfort, or infliction of 
bodily pain, to gain the heavenly kingdom, or the over-estima- 
tion of external good behavior. As a further example: If 
two persons are prone to debauchery and one avoids it be- 
cause of stinginess, or if two are alike disposed to cheating or 
bribery, but one is held back from the overt act for fear of de- 
tection, is the one who does the immoral act worse than the 
other ? The one who does the evil makes himself guilty before 
the law, but the other is morally as bad, or rather worse, not- 
withstanding the illusion of the non-actor that conscience is 
the better for his not having perpetrated the immoral deed. 
(Compare Beneke's Grundlinien der Sittenlehre, Vol. I, page 
477, etc.) 

Of an inactive, sleeping conscience we might speak in cases 
of perplexity and embarrassment, where the necessary com- 
parison does not take place, although its factors exist in the 
mind. 

65. Freedom of Will and Accountability. 

Upon the basis of our investigations (thus far advanced) 
there will be no great difficulty in solving the much-vexed 
question of the free will and accountability of man. 

We have seen that desires, inclinations, will, etc., are grad- 
ual developments of the mind just as much as are intellectual 
modifications. There does not exist an inborn power to pro- 



148 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 

duce the numerous and often very complicated mental acts of 
which we have spoken. They are all products of the same 
primitive forces and the same mental laws. Of the intellectual 
abilities we may say they are, to a certain degree, predestined; 
for a certain degree of energy, acuteness and rapidity is re- 
quired for the formation of certain talents. One whose primi- 
tive forces are lacking greatly in these particulars will surely 
fail to acquire such talents. The same may be said of moral 
development. A high degree of acuteness of the lower 
senses, with only a low degree of energy of the higher, may 
favor deviations from the moral norm. But then this favoring 
is no actual deviation, neither is it a necessity of its develop- 
ment. If a chain of circumstances does not necessitate such 
development, it never comes into existence. In the chain of 
circumstances, then, lies the necessity of moral and immoral 
development. Are these circumstances in the power of man? 
If not, how about his free will and accountability? This is 
exactly the dilemma the question of freedom of will and ac- 
countability has always encountered. In order to secure clear- 
ness in the discussion of this seeming confusion, we must nar- 
rowdy discriminate between two things: 1. Between the relation 
of a certain action of a man and his interior (from which it springs), 
that is, his will, his disposition in general, his moral qualities; and, 
2. Between the formation of this interior, or of this will, by the ex- 
ternal circumstances under which he lives. 

Freedom of will and accountability can be spoken of properly 
only in the sense of the first relation. To declare that a man is 
responsible for an act means the act is counted against him, as 
having been derived from him, or as having been morally pro- 
duced by him. An opposite illustration will make this point 
still clearer. A man is not responsible for an act if the act 
was produced either by mechanical compulsion (for instance, 
when one chained is made to pull a rope by which a weight 
falls and injures another), or by psychical constraint (when one, 
on the ground of false news, which he believes to be correct, 
withdraws his help from a needy family, etc.), or by an ab- 
normal state of mind caused by poisonous substances, or during 
fits of insanity. In all these cases the act is not derived from 



FREEDOM OF WILL AND ACCOUNTABILITY. 149 

the moral disposition of the man, is not a product of his moral 
development, and therefore the act does not morally belong to 
him. It cannot be counted to him (as having been derived from 
him or as being morally produced by him), and therefore he is 
not accountable for it. 

Freedom of will means exactly the same, but from another 
standpoint. Freedom is independence, self-determination ; which 
qualities in a free act show themselves in a two-fold manner. 
Morally a free act is independent of all external causality, in 
consequence of which an external necessity for its performance 
does not exist. (" None who can die, can be forced;" "Niemand 
muss miissen," Lessiitg.) It is independent also from all internal 
causality which is not the will or the disposition. The morality 
of an act is purely and solely conditioned by the moral state 
of man, that is, of his will, his disposition, etc. This point 
may be illustrated still further. If one who had been bribed 
excused himself by urging the greatness of the temptation he 
was subjected to, we would object. Another might, by the same 
temptation, have remained entirely pure. Not the temptation, 
then, but his own immoral disposition, did the wrong. Of 
course, if the temptation had not offered, he would not have 
done the deed, but he would, nevertheless, have been the same 
immoral character who, on another occasion, when opportu- 
nity offered, would have proven himself guilty. Temptation 
does not pervert a good will into an immoral will ; it merely 
draws out what interiorly exists and how it exists. Notwith- 
standing the temptation, his deed was entirely and only con- 
ditioned by his own will or disposition, and therefore, it was a 
free act. 

" But" say some, " my will is free, when I can will to do just 
what I please ; for I might as well have acted differently" This is 
true, if rightly understood. He might have acted differently 
if it had pleased him otherwise; that is to say, if his disposition 
or his ivill had been different. The morality of our action is 
strictly conditioned by the moral nature of our will. Only 
so far as both correspond is our action free. If, therefore, his 
will or disposition had been different, or if it had pleased him 
otherwise, he would have acted differently; but, again, strictly 



150 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OB SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 

according to the nature of his disposition or will. For " whatever 
freedom the will has, must lie within its own proper sphere of 
action, and not without it; must relate to that and not to 
something else." (Jos. Haven, D. D., p. 539.) This will appear 
still more clearly, if we remember that man's practical develop- 
ment consists in the sum of his acquired single practical disposi- 
tions. From these his actions are derived, and derived strictly 
according to the nature, the strength, the combination, etc., of 
the same, so that in the degree in which they had been differ- 
ent, in that degree he would have acted differently. But so 
far as they are acquired — that is, so far as man is developed 
internally as he is, they necessarily condition man's actions (in 
the relation of cause and effect). No one can, no one does, act 
otherwise than is conditioned by his disposition or his will. 
Herein consists the freedom of his will, for his will would be 
annulled were he in any way forced to act differently. 

Man must act morally, so far as his dispositions correspond 
to the moral norm, and overbalance opposite desires, because 
he wills so; and he must act immorally, so far as his dispo- 
sitions are of an opposite nature and strong enough to sub- 
due better ones, because he wills so. Just because there is 
this strict causal relation between what a man is (that is, 
his developed dispositions and will) and his actions, he is 
accountable for his deeds; for we surely could not hold him 
accountable for that which he was not the cause of, or what 
had not been derived from his own disposition or will. Thus, 
freedom of will and accountability are inseparably one and the 
same. We cannot deny the truth of the one without annulling 
the other, or admit the one without admitting the other. 

There are, however, still some points that need clearing 
up. It might appear, according to the above, that man has 
no choice between good and evil, or right and wrong ; for as 
he is, he must will to do, thus establishing a contradiction 
w T ith the freedom of his will, in consequence of which he can 
will to do just what he pleases. Nothing can be clearer than 
that there is really no such contradiction. We must bear in 
mind what has been explained on almost every page of this 
work — that the human mind is gradually, but constantly 



FREEDOM OF WILL AND ACCOUNTABILITY. 151 

growing, developing itself from childhood to old age; that 
therefore, always and constantly, the most diverse desires, in- 
clinations, etc., are developed according to the various impres- 
sions and circumstances acting from the outer world. Besides 
such impressions as correspond to the moral norm, there also 
originate impressions that deviate from it. There exists no 
one human being in whom the sum of developments is all 
good or all bad. From this it follows that, in a great many 
cases where a moral question has to be solved, we will have 
to choose between good and evil, or right and wrong. The 
result w T ill always show w 7 hich of the two predominates in our 
soul. It will always be the strongest desire or disposition 
which causes our action, again vindicating our free will, or the 
power to will to do what we please. So long as we have oppo- 
site inclinations of nearly the same strength, our choice will 
be quite difficult, because a struggle must necessarily ensue 
between the opposing dispositions. The strongest will surely 
conquer. 

The choice, however, between the good and evil, will become 
lighter and easier, the more the one or the other of the con- 
flicting dispositions overbalances the opposite in strength; and 
for a person who has, in a given case, no contrary dispositions, 
there will be no struggle at all. His choice will appear spon- 
taneously. AVe can, therefore, if we accurately know a man's 
disposition, foretell how he will act in a given case. AVe know 
this from ourselves so far as we know ourselves accurately. 
Accurately, I say ; for, in a great many instances there is no cer- 
tainty of knowing beforehand how anyone, or how we ourselves, 
shall act under certain circumstances. We have been deceived 
so many times in others and by ourselves in this respect, 
that we must confess that such predictions are more or less 
uncertain. Does this prove the existence of the strict causal 
connection betw r een our actions and our dispositions ? Surely 
it does not disprove this connection. The uncertainty of 
predicting how a man will act under certain circumstances, 
does not lie in the causal relation of his actions, his motives, 
but in our imperfect knowledge of these motives. The uncer- 
tainty is, therefore, not founded upon a break in the links 



152 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OB SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 

between cause and effect, but entirely upon the deficiency of 
our knowledge of those links. If we knew a man accurately, 
entirely, minutely, we would always be able to foretell his 
actions just as certainly as we would be able to foretell any 
other effect of which we know the cause. But our knowledge 
of others, and even of ourselves, is so limited, that only in a 
very few exceptional cases we can absolutely foretell. Just 
these exceptional cases prove the truth of the strict causal 
relation existing between action and motive. Knowing the 
causes accurately, we know also the effects. 

Objections are raised against this view on account of small 
external occurrences. Some say, for instance, " we are entirely 
at liberty to raise our right or left arm just as we please." 
" As we please " exactly ! But does this not prove that what- 
ever they do has its cause in their disposition ? This dispo- 
sition has necessary causes for its existence in their interior 
development, as well as in various existing influences. The 
actuating causes are, therefore, quite numerous, and may 
differ greatly in regard to their strength and excitation, and 
be beside of so minute a character, that a prediction which arm 
they will move is utterly impossible. But, whichever arm 
they move, it is nevertheless moved in a strict causal connec- 
tion. One arm is, perhaps, stronger than the other, and the 
obscure sensation of it decides the motion, or the object 
reached for lies nearer or more convenient for the other arm, 
or whatever else just this motion may provoke. 

" But," they may say, " if we now, in spite of this, move the 
other arm?" Very well, then it is just this spiteful disposi- 
tion which overrules the motion of the first arm. " But we 
might as well suppress this, and do the contrary ? " All possi- 
ble ; but then the cause lies again in this second disposition to 
suppress that caprice, while another in whom the second dis- 
position does not exist, follows his spite, and a third one gives 
way to the first impulse founded in the greater natural con- 
venience, because no caprice induces him to act differently. 

We thus come to the same result of strict causality between 
will, disposition, or motive and action. Because of this causal 
connection, no act of ours is performed without a correspond- 



FREEDOM OF WILL AND ACCOUNTABILITY. 153 

ing disposition of ours, or of our will, and we enjoy freedom of 
will. It is always we who will to do as we please, and for this 
reason we are accountable for our deeds. 

It is a different thing, however, when we come to consider 
the formation of our interior, or of our will or dispositions, by the 
numerous external circumstances surrounding us. Even these have 
by some been asserted to belong in the scope of free will and 
accountability. That some one has just such a disposition or 
such a will they consider as the effect of his freedom, and 
therefore he must be accountable for it. To some extent this 
may be said to be true. We often find moral deviations of a 
later date to have their cause in earlier ones, as, for instance : 
Inebriety, in consequence of laziness, to kill time and ennui ; 
cheating and fraud, in consequence of inordinate longing after 
enjoyment ; desire for revenge and malevolence, etc., in con- 
sequence of vanity or longing after fame or power, which de- 
sires have often been disappointed, etc. The first single devia- 
tion excites desires or aversions of another kind, which remain 
as vestiges, and develop, by repetition, into other moral devia- 
tions. Or, the same deviation which originally is only weak, 
grows by fostering indulgence to indomitable strength. In 
all these cases we must acknowledge the later deviations as 
effects of the former, and as the former constitute part of man's 
will or disposition, the latter must be considered, not only as a 
present quality of his character, but also, in regard to their 
formation or their origination, as having been derived from him, 
and are thus far justly accountable to him. 

So far the assertion "that man is accountable for his 
present disposition, because it is the effect of his free will," 
is correct, but only so far ; for if we consider carefully how 
he came to be as he is, we find that there is no such strict 
causal connection between these single steps of internal de- 
velopment as between his motives and actions. Thousands 
are lazy without ever becoming inebriates ; thousands with an 
inordinate longing for enjoyments remain honest; thousands 
who are vain, or thirst for glory, never develop anything like 
malevolence or hatred, and so on. 

There are quite numerous and diverse external circumstances 
11 



154 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 

necessary to make a man what he is. Under different circum- 
stances he might have developed altogether differently — that 
is, as to his moral being ; for although, as we have seen above, 
the latter may also, in the relation of motive and action, 
be provoked by external circumstances — when, for instance, the 
self-interested actually cheats because of a great temptation, 
without which he would not have done the mean deed — yet, 
even here, it is only the external doing which is provoked by 
the temptation, and not his inner moral being, which was as 
bad before as after the deed. The external circumstances, 
therefore, did not form his moral state, but merely brought to 
light what already existed. 

Here, however, where we speak of the formation or the origin 
of the dispositions, it is altogether different. They grow, as 
has been shown in different places, out of single external stim- 
ulations, as circumstances offer them. We see this the more 
clearly the farther back we trace the moral being of a man. 
We come then to more and more innocent periods of his life, 
and at last to the entirely indifferent moral state at his birth. 
Here the external circumstances have commenced to act upon 
the undeveloped soul in various forms of stimulation, and 
have thus caused modifications of strength or of debility. By 
and by, according to their nature and repetition, modifications 
which either correspond with or deviate from the moral norm 
are formed. We find thus the cause of man's moral develop- 
ment, or of the formation of his dispositions or his will, actu- 
ally given in those relations which the external circumstances 
under which he lives provide for him. This is demonstrated 
also quite clearly in cases where a certain train of circum- 
stances under which a man has been developed in a certain 
direction, are at once cut off. 

For instance, a rich "good-for-nothing" loses his money 
and is forced by hunger to w T ork and apply himself to a regu- 
lar mode of life ; or, a foolish flirt loses by sickness her pretty 
face and is thus drawn to more sober and substantial thoughts. 
Had the first circumstances continued, both would have grown 
in the first direction — that is, from bad to worse. But w T hen 
the external conditions upon wmich this growth was based 



FREEDOM OF WILL AND ACCOUNTABILITY. 155 

suddenly ceased, the further development in the first direction 
was also stopped. 

Although this stoppage does not take away the dispositions 
already formed, it prevents at least their further growth by the 
impossibility of further fostering; and as by the new conditions 
of life new interests are excited, which keep the former in un- 
consciousness and inactivity, the new may so gain the ascend- 
ancy over the old dispositions, that, indeed, an entire change 
is finally wrought in the moral disposition of the individual 
by external circumstances. This shows clearly the mighty 
influence of external circumstances upon the formation of 
man's dispositions, or his will, and so far as these external 
circumstances are not under man's control, we cannot consider 
their effect the direct result of man's action upon the formation 
of his dispositions, nor as belonging to the scope of his free will 
or accountability. 

Indeed, we have no right to so consider them, unless we are 
allowed to mix things which do not belong together. The free- 
dom of will consists, as we have seen, in the causal connection 
between motive and action. That is to sa} 7 , no act of ours is 
performed without a fully corresponding disposition of ours, 
or of our will. It is always we who will do as we please ; and, 
therefore, we are accountable for such actions. 

But where this causal connection between motive and action 
ceases, there freedom and accountability cease also. The for- 
mation of our dispositions, that is to say, the how and why we 
must will as we do, lies in a limited degree only in our will ; 
it depends much more upon the external circumstances under 
which we live and over which we have no control, and thus far 
we have no right to talk of freedom of will or accountability. 

The question why the one is placed under such, and another 
under other circumstances, obviously does not belong to the 
scope of our investigations. (Compare Beneke's Grundlinien 
der Sittenlehre, Vol. II., p. 498 et seq.) 



156 the emotional sphere, or sphere of the feelings. 

66. Feelings of Similar Character Increase their Effect 
when Co-existing in Consciousness. 

We experience this truth when we make one of a pleasant 
family party. The various amusements offering themselves 
to senses and mind, although differing singly, unite, neverthe- 
less, in their general pleasing character, and cause a total feel- 
ing of much higher elation than any of the single amusements 
alone could produce. We find, under such conditions, a little 
joke quite exquisite, a little amusing occurrence exceedingly 
funny, etc., while the joke or occurrence at other times might 
leave us unaffected. The great effect of such a union of 
diverse similar feelings into one totality we experience espe- 
cially in poetical figures and parables, the character of which 
consists of this, that an idea, or rather the feeling which it is 
meant to produce, is heightened by the excitation into con- 
sciousness of other ideas capable of producing similar feelings. 
In this way originate feelings of the beautiful, of the sublime, 
of the great. It is the same in music, where a single tone 
gains by the accompaniment of other harmonious notes ; the 
totality of its effect lies in its harmony. Dissonances interfere 
for the moment, but the predominance of harmony decides 
the totality of its effect. 

The feeling of gratitude belongs in the same category. 
Beside the pleasurable feeling of the received kindness we 
conceive also the benevolence of the benefactor, or his excellent 
character, or his high attainments in science, etc. Clearly, 
these latter are only remotely similar to the pleasurable feel- 
ing of the received kindness; still, being of a pleasurable 
nature, they help to heighten the first into greater intensity. 
That this is so, we can readily find if we subtract the latter, 
and suppose one to be benefited by somebody whom he does 
not know. The received benefit will also surely excite in him 
a feeling of gratitude, but certainly not in the degree as in the 
case where other pleasurable conceptions of the benefactor 
help to heighten this feeling. Suppose the manner in which 
the benefaction is tendered be of an offensive, parading nature, 
the feeling of gratitude will sink to a still lower plane — per- 
haps not be excited at all. 



DISSIMILAR FEELINGS. 157 

But not only similar pleasurable feelings unite by their con- 
currence in consciousness in a totality of higher intensity. We 
find the same effect produced by the concurrence of similar 
painful feelings. Little unpleasantnesses, when following each 
other in rapid succession, may become intolerable. Great 
losses, when occurring together, may cause a total feeling of 
perfect dejection and despondency. The feeling of mortifica- 
tion is composed, not only of the pain produced by reprehen- 
sion, insult or neglect, but also by a feeling of our unworthi- 
ness, no matter whether this unworthiness really exists in us 
or whether it is merely forced into our consciousness by the 
strength with which the abuser conceives it. The feeling 
of regret is caused by the unpleasant consequence of our 
actions, and is much lighter to bear than the feeling of peni- 
tence with which a consciousness of our folly, or frivolousness, 
or immorality, is associated. 

67. Dissimilar Feelings when Co-existing in Conscious- 
ness Restrain themselves in their Effect. 

We experience the effect 'of dissimilar feelings when in a 
merry company a bodily pain (toothache, or headache, or some 
other trouble) prevents our feelings from reaching the height 
we see produced in our friends, who have not to contend with 
such unpleasantnesses. Still we are better off in merry com- 
pany than at home, where, without the pleasurable excitations, 
we would feel our troubles doubly strong. It follows that dis- 
similar feelings, when simultaneously excited, restrain or 
weaken each other mutually. We have here an altogether 
different relation from that spoken of in 48 and 49. The dis- 
similar feelings do not measure themselves one with the other; 
that is. the toothache, headache, or whatsoever unpleasant feel- 
ing it may be, is not the basis whereupon the pleasurable ex- 
citations of the merry company are measured, or vice versa; but 
both the pleasurable and the painful are together measured 
with other mental states, and the total effect of such a mixed 
mental condition is likewise of a mixed character. Neither 
the pleasurable nor the painful stimuli can gain full exten- 



158 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 

sion, because the one restrains the other of its full development. 
We cannot feel quite so merry as those around us, and we can- 
not feel quite so miserable as we would were we alone without 
these pleasurable excitations. We may say the pain has 
spoiled our pleasure, and the pleasure has ameliorated 
our pain. 

Clear examples of such mixed feelings are those of hope and 
fear. In both we have groups and series of mental modifica- 
tions which relate to the realization or avoidance of something 
good or evil in the future. In both cases these groups are a 
mixture of modifications of strength and of debility. In a case 
where the modifications of strength predominate, we have 
hope ; when, however, modifications of debility have the upper 
hand, we have fear. If these groups relating to the realiza- 
tion or avoidance of some future good or evil, consisted of 
nothing but pleasurable feelings (modifications of strength), 
the sum of them would be a feeling of assurance and joy, and 
if they consisted of nothing but painful feelings (modifications 
of debility), the sum of them would be a feeling of despair. 
Hope and fear require a mixture of pleasurable and painful 
feelings, co-existing in consciousness, whereby they mutually 
restrain themselves of their full sway. 

68. Concluding Remarks. 

I have thus far endeavored to condense in the smallest pos- 
sible compass the mechanism of mental evolutions. I may 
call it a mental analysis, which, in all respects, reaches, in 
exactness, to any chemical ^analysis. The most complex 
mental phenomena have been dissolved into their elementary 
constituents, and in the highest mental modifications we have 
been able to demonstrate their organizing processes from out 
of the simplest elements. This has been done on a purely 
psychological basis, by the aid of inner perception. From 
this it appears how incorrectly Dr. Maudsley judges, when 
in his " Physiology and Pathology of the Mind," p. 11, he 
says: "May we not then justly say that self-consciousness is 
utterly incompetent to supply the facts for the building up of 



CONCLUDING REMARKS. 159 

a truly inductive psychology ?" We will have to consider his 
arguments against the psychological method, which, indeed 
are much older than Maudsley's inquiries, in a later para- 
graph. I may state at once, however, that I fully agree with 
him in the adoption of the inductive method, "which makes 
man the servant and interpreter of nature, and which is, in 
reality, the systematic pursuance of the law of progress in 
organic development" (p. 6); for all psychological evolutions 
are, indeed, as I trust I have sufficiently shown, organic de- 
velopments, which can be satisfactorily explained only on a 
basis of scrutinizing observation of mental life, wherever and 
however that mental life may manifest itself; but not by pre- 
conceived general ideas from which the old psychology has in 
vain been trying to construe a science true to nature. There 
is a point wherein I perfectly agree with Dr. Maudsley, and 
acknowledge with pleasure his advanced ideas on mental 
development. Neither the will, nor the understanding, nor 
the sphere of feelings "are innate and constant faculties, but 
gradual and varying organizations ;" and this has been shown 
by no one more clearly and convincingly, because based upon 
experience, than by Beneke in his numerous works during 
the years from 1820 to 1853. 

It is rather a perplexing fact, however, that Beneke has 
received so little acknowledgement, even from writers who, 
in their researches, boast of their inductive methods. All I 
can find in their works is a mere mention of his "Lehr- 
buch der Psychologie als Naturwissenschaft" a book written for 
the use of his students, as a guide during his lectures. To 
judge from this skeleton-book the profound life which has 
flowed from this deep and well-trained mind is, to say the 
least, scarcely just or up to the times. The old psychologists, 
especially the followers of Herbart, decried him as an " em- 
piricist," who was unfit for any sort of speculation (Harten- 
stein uber die neuesten Darstellvmgen und Beurtheilungen der Her- 
barfschen Philosophic) ; or, as a half-bred pupil of Herbart, 
who stuck fast half-way in the deep mysteries of Herbart's 
Philosophy, and who, in order to hide his real intellectual 
origin, used only a new terminology, and so forth (Drobisch, 



160 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, oil SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 

empirische Psycliologie, p. 325, ff.). The physiological school, 
on the other hand, has barely mentioned, as above stated, his 
text-book for students. Now, it is true Beneke was no mate- 
rialist, and in his mode of investigating mental phenomena he 
did not need the aid of physiology, although he never despised 
any facts, if the)' were well grounded, from whatever source 
they might arise. On the contrar} r , he was open and alive to 
all observations pertaining to mental evolutions, of the truth 
of which assertion any of his larger works may be cited as 
proof, Even if it was not by this method he reached such 
results, I may say of Beneke what Dr. Maudsley says of 
Locke: "It was because he possessed a powerful and well- 
balanced mind, that the results which he obtained, in what- 
ever nomenclature they may be clothed, are, and ever will 
be, valuable, because they are the self-revelations of an ex- 
cellently-constituted and well-trained mind" (p. 25). We 
need not, then, be afraid of the strenuous efforts of the ad- 
herents of physiological views to explain mental phenomena 
on the basis of physiological experiments. On the contrary, 
we must welcome them as sincere co-laborers in the great 
cause of unveiling the great mystery — "man." Indeed, there 
is no reason for rejecting any help from whatever source it 
may arise. Adolf Horwitz, in his " Psychologische Analysen 
avf Physiologischer Grundlage " (p. 58), is quite right when he 
says: "If the body be the cause of the soul, then true in- 
formation of the mind's actions can be had only by a clear 
understanding of the formation of the body and its organs; if 
the body be the design or product of the mind, we assuredly 
will gain a better insight of the intending means by a close 
knowledge of the intended bodily effects. Or, on the other 
hand, if the soul be the cause or builder of the body, we may 
the better judge of this unseen cause, the better we understand 
its product ; and finally, if the soul be the design or product of 
the body, then, of course, a knowledge of the latter will best 
further a knowledge of the former." In no way, then, can the 
newly-awakened interest of physiologists for investigations of 
mental phenomena interfere with psychology as a natural 
science. What will clearly appear in our later investigations 



SUMMARY. 



161 



I may briefly state here : Physiological researches will com- 
plement the observations of inner perception in those spheres 
which, by their nature, are capable of developing only a faint 
consciousness, or none at all, under ordinary circumstances. 
It is thus a helping hand from below up, which we thankfully 
accept and will not reject, even if we should find now and 
then that its tendency was rather downward instead of up- 
ward. We shall, however, always strenuously decline to 
tolerate that superficial self-sufficiency and onesidedness 
which thinks itself in possession of all the wisdom extant, and 
considers others, with other views and other experiences, as 
fools and knaves. 



69. Summary. 

I. The 'primitive forces. 

Faculties predominantly endowed with the qualities of 
energy and acuteness favor the origin of feelings of the sublime, 
while a predominance of rapidity is more adapted for the pro- 
duction of feelings of the agreeable. A favorable combination 
of the three qualities promotes the formation of feelings of 
the beautiful (53). The sublime and beautiful require, how- 
ever, for their production also an interior treasure of mental 
modifications, which must correspond to the sensorial impres- 
sions. We, then, underlie the latter with our own feelings and 
dispositions; transfer, so to say, our interior, as corresponding 
to them. In short, we spiritualize the external things. Herein 
consists the nature of the aesthetic feelings (54). 

The greater the energy of the primary forces, the more 
readily do we attain feelings of strength of the single modi- 
fications, for then the vestiges are much more perfect (55). 
Conceptions which consist of many such perfect vestiges 
are reproduced with clearness and distinctness, while such 
as consist of only few vestiges are felt as dim or indistinct. 
A mixture of like and unlike vestiges gives the feeling of 
obscurity or confusion (56). But also pleasurable or painful 
and conative mental modifications receive, by the multiplica- 
tion and preservation of vestiges, their peculiar character as 



1G2 

feelings (58). The stronger pleasure we feel as of greater value, 
or as a greater good, and the stronger desire manifests itself 
with greater force (61). Knowing, from previous chapters, 
that the primary forces gradate in all men in the same man- 
ner as regards their energy, from the higher to the lower 
senses; knowing also that the external stimuli are always 
the same, acting according to their nature upon all human 
beings in like manner; and knowing, finally, that in all 
human souls the same law of 'attraction of like to like produces 
homogeneous units, we come to the conclusion that the feel- 
ings, too, must gradate, in regard to their strength, in all 
human beings in the same manner ; that, therefore, a feeling 
of pleasure or pain of the higher senses must in all men have 
greater strength, be of greater value, than one of the lower 
senses ; provided, always, that the number of vestiges in both 
be alike, and that the basis whereupon they are felt remains 
the same, which latter condition is indeed a necessity of all 
acquired, stationary feelings. This natural gradation of good 
and evil, necessarily conditioned by the nature of the primary 
forces, is the basis of all true and correct valuation; and, inas- 
much as the valuation of things, when reproduced in the form 
of desires, constitutes the motives for our actions, it is at the 
same time the moral norm, or the highest moral law, which may 
be expressed in the form of a commandment : " Thou shalt 
value everything according to its rank in the natural grada- 
tion of good and evil." 

II. The external stimuli. 

According to the quantitative relation of external stimuli to 
the primitive forces, the latter cause either feelings of non- 
satisfaction or of pleasure, of satiety or of pain ; in short, all 
pleasurable and painful feelings. These various stimulations 
gradually form the character of man (51). 

Sensations differ from perceptions by their embryonic con- 
sciousness. Perceptions are multiplied sensations (51). 

A peculiar relation of external stimuli to the primary forces 
— the pleasurable stimulation — is also the cause of the forma- 
tion of feelings of the agreeable, of the sublime, and of the 
beautiful. 



SUMMARY. 163 

III. The fundamental processes of the mind. 

1. The transformation of primitive forces by external 
stimuli, in consequence of which sensations and perceptions 
originate, is the cause of all feelings ; for a feeling can originate 
only when several (at least two) mental modifications, differing 
from each other, co-exist in consciousness. The immediate 
consciousness of this difference we call a feeling (47). As all 
that has been formed in the mind with any degree of perfec- 
tion remains as vestiges, it can easily be understood why the 
sphere of feelings is so great, and why our feelings are so un- 
stable and varied ; for one and the same mental modification 
can manifest itself n$w as one and now as another kind of 
feeling, according as it co-exists now with one or now with 
another mental modification (49 and 51). The greater the 
difference between mental modifications co-existing in con- 
sciousness, the stronger, fresher, or more vivid is the feeling (49). 

2. The attraction of like to like causes the feeling of strength 
of the single mental modifications, which, in the sphere of con- 
ceptions, manifests itself either as clearness (a union of many 
like vestiges), or as indistinctness (a union of few like vestiges) 
(55 and 56). The union of a greater or less number of pleas- 
urable or painful stimulations determines the value things 
assume in our eyes. Too great an accumulation of like ves- 
tiges in one or another direction causes deviations from the 
natural gradation of good and evil, or false valuation (60). In 
the sphere of conation this law produces the strength of de- 
sires and aversions (61). If single desires and aversions grow 
too strong in relation to true valuation, we have immorality, or 
perverted will (62). Maliciousness is the product of selfishness, 
bitterness of mind, and a perversion of natural feelings (63). 
The correct or excessive strength of pleasurable, or painful, or 
conative modifications, manifests itself immediately as a feel- 
ing. If, upon the basis of true valuation, an excessive desire 
is roused into consciousness, we feel this desire as deviating, or 
as wrong ; if, on the other hand, a true valuation is measured 
upon the basis of an excessive desire, we feel the first as right. 
Thus originates the feeling of duty. This feeling, applied to 
our own actions, is called conscience. When is it good? When 
bad? How far does it extend? What is an erring con- 



104 THE EMOTIONAL SPHERE, OR SPHERE OF THE FEELINGS. 

science? (64). Freedom of will is independence from all exter- 
nal and all internal causality, so far as the external and inter- 
nal causes are not the product of the will or disposition. But 
between oar will, or dispositions, or motives, and our actions, 
there is always the strictest causality. Because of this causal 
connection, no act of ours is performed without a corresponding 
individual disposition, or of our will to do that act. It is 
always we who will to do as we please, and for this reason we are 
responsible for our deeds. The strongest disposition or desire 
will always determine our actions. So long as we have opposite 
inclinations of the same strength our choice will be difficult. 
It will grow lighter the more the one or the other of the con- 
flicting dispositions overbalances the opposite in strength. 
There will occur no struggle at all w T here there are no contrary 
dispositions. The formation of our dispositions lies in a 
limited degree only in our will. It depends much more on 
the external circumstances over which we have no control (65). 
Feelings of similar character, when co-existing in conscious- 
ness, increase in strength. Herein lies the charm of poetical 
figures and parables. This is the nature of the feeling of grati- 
tude. Single unpleasantnesses accumulating grow unbearable. 
The feelings of mortification, penitence, and the like, are sub- 
ject to the same rule (66). Dissimilar feelings, when co-existing 
in consciousness, restrain each other in producing effects. 
Such is the character of the feelings of hope and fear (67). 

3. The diffusion of mobile elements, in consequence of which 
there is a constant flowing of mobile elements from one mental 
modification to another, causes the continual transmutation of 
our mental acquisitions from delitescence into conscious exci- 
tation, and vice versa (32). Without this process feelings could 
not originate. In order to attain a consciousness of the differ- 
ence between different mental modifications, these modifica- 
tions must be excited side by side into consciousness; and as 
the mobile elements unite at the same time the single modifi- 
cations, during their coexistence in consciousness, into groups 
and series, they are the cause of those stationary or acquired 
feelings wdiich we have ready for use, and which endure as 
long as the union of their factors remains undissolved (48). 



PART IV. 



PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 



" The more minutely we investigate the phenomena of living matter the less 
likely does it appear that the causes of these will be discovered in the domain of 
physics, or that any vital, as well as all non-vital, actions, will prove to be in the 
grasp of physical law." (Lionel S. Beale, in Protoplasm, p. 343.) 



70. Sensibility and Irritability. 

There are usually assigned to man five senses : Sight, hear- 
ing, smell, taste and feeling. They are represented by bodily 
organs : The eyes, the ears, the nose, the tongue, and the in- 
numerable fine sentient nerves which are distributed all over 
and throughout the body. Even a superficial investigation, 
however, of the reaction of these nerves, through the so-called 
" common or general sense of feeling," makes it apparent that 
they respond to stimuli widely diverse in nature. What we 
discern, for example, by the points of our fingers and toes, the 
lips, and tip of the tongue (by touch), differs widely from the 
sensations we receive by the skin in general, or by the action 
of our muscles, or by the operation of the lungs, the stomach, 
and other organs. This we shall have to inquire into further 
on. Here it may merely be stated, in general, that where 
sensations originate we find bodily organs of peculiar structure, 
which organs are adapted to the reception of certain kinds of 
stimuli. According to the nature of the stimuli, the recipient 
organs vary in structure. All organs, however, consist in a 
central and a peripheral apparatus joined by conducting cords 
of peculiar matter called nerves. Certain nerves have the 
peculiarity, that in a normal bodily condition they convey im- 

(165) 



1GG PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

pressions from the periphery to the centre, hence their name 
afferent nerves, in contradistinction from others which carry 
central impressions to the periphery, and which, therefore, are 
called efferent nerves. We shall speak of the latter more fully 
in some future paragraph. The afferent nerves, with their 
peculiarly constructed peripheral and central arrangements, 
form the bodily basis of the senses. 

Glancing over the various classes of living organisms, we do 
not find any signs of a nervous structure in the whole class of 
beings designated by the name of Protozoa. This class consists 
of a perfectly homogeneous mucous substance. Nevertheless, 
they appear to possess a kind of sensibility to external stimuli, 
as, according to Trembley's observations, the Hydra moves 
towards the light, while, according to Cavolini, the Gorgonia 
and Sertularia shun the light. We may descend still lower in 
the scale of creation to the vegetable kingdom, w T here nervous 
structure is entirely out of question, and find even here clear 
signs of reaction against external stimuli. Of the very numer- 
ous instances of this kind, I need single out only the generally 
known plants, the Mimosa pudica and Dionsea muscipula 
(Venus' fly-trap). In these cases reaction against stimuli 
does not depend upon a nervous structure at all. The same 
independence manifests itself in the irritability of the muscles 
when their nerves are severed ; in the growth of the ovule, and 
its subsequent development after fecundation until the period 
when the first traces of nerves appear ; in the growth of such 
parts of the body in which no nerves as yet have been discov- 
ered — for example, the cartilages, the lenses, the vitreous 
humor ; in the respiration of the red blood-corpuscles and the 
motion of the white corpuscles outside of the body. Life is 
inherent in the cell (Virchow) ; or more accurately, according 
to Beale, in the bioplasm or protoplasm, which consists of 
colorless and structureless masses, the smallest of which are 
spherical, the largest always assuming the spherical form 
when free to move in a fluid or semifluid medium. 

Still there must be a difference between the irritability of 
cells possessed of and those devoid of nervous elements. It 
might, indeed, be impossible to draw a line of distinction 



SENSIBILITY AND IRRITABILITY. 167 

between the two when they first commence to appear as sepa- 
rate organizations, as in the case of the lowest classes of animal 
organisms. But the line of demarcation will become sufficiently 
plain if we follow their development to its more advanced 
stages. These latter stages show unmistakably an entirely 
new form of development, and one invariably associated with 
the nervous organization, the development of consciousness. 
However perfect a cell may be, or however perfect its combi- 
nation with other cells in forming a complex organism, as, for 
example, in plants, the cell nowhere shows signs of conscious- 
ness. Xot until nervous structure appears is the development 
of consciousness discernible ; but only the advanced stages of 
nervous development show the essential tendency of the pri- 
mary or elementary nerve-structure definitely realized. What 
at first is indiscernible gradually unfolds itself, and we come, 
by retrograde reasoning, to the conclusion that whatever pecu- 
liar property belongs to an advanced nervous structure, must 
belong equally in kind, though more faintly in degree, to the 
nerve-element in its nascency. If we thus hold nervous 
structure apart from all other cell-structure, we shall be able to 
distinguish between the sensibility of nerve-structure and the 
irritability of all other living cells. In nerve sensibility there 
is a capacity for development into consciousness, and this capac- 
ity is constantly struggling to realize itself, while the irrita- 
bility of all other living cells exhausts itself in a reaction to 
maintain life, that is, in the preservation and upbuilding of 
nutrition and form. We see this clearly manifested, not only 
in those plants which consist of a single cell, especially the 
Algse, living unattached in the water and in the spores of 
plants, but also in the various cells of the animal organism. 
The automatic properties of the cells have been described by 
Virchow (in his Cellular Pathology, p. 355, 4th German edition) 
as consisting of the following characteristics: They change 
their form continually by projecting and withdrawing single 
parts of their substance, which is seen with special clearness 
in the young cells of the cartilage and of the enchondroma ; 
they have molecular motion within themselves in their proto- 
plasma, as observed by Reinhardt in pus-corpuscles, and by 



168 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

Remak in mucus-corpuscles; they form vacuoles in their pro- 
toplasma ; they cause separations of single parts from the 
main body, and swallow up and incorporate with great vorac- 
ity other cells and foreign substances, as has been observed by 
Preyer and others. Preyer saw colorless blood-corpuscles 
twist around and envelope red ones, and press them into their 
interior; and others observed that colorless blood-corpuscles as 
well as other cells incorporate indigo, carmine, cinnabar, in 
much the same way as is known of Infusoria, who possess 
neither mouth, stomach, nor outlet, but take up or suck in 
foreign substances, and throw them off more or less changed 
at any point of their surface. All these processes have been 
observed to go on in the living cell, independent entirely of 
any nervous influence. They are the cell's essential life prop- 
erty, its irritability or innate nutritive and formative power, 
in consequence of which the cell becomes a living organism, 
and is life in its incipient stage, vegetable or animal. By it 
the cell multiplies and aggregates, and gives rise to the growth 
of the different organisms. 

71. The Nervous System. 

No doubt the nerve-cell too, considered merely as a living 
cell, has the same inherent capacity and tendency toward nu- 
tritive and formative processes, otherwise its growth would be 
impossible ; but superadded to this is another capacity, higher 
and generically different, the capacity for development into 
consciousness. In its primary impulse this manifests itself in 
a gradual development of the special senses, that is, as a sensi- 
bility for the reception and appreciation of special external 
impressions. The first indications of this capacity are, indeed, 
very faint. Not until we arrive at the class of Radiata do we 
find traces of a nervous system. The Acalepha present a 
nervous ring around the entrance of the stomach or mouth, as 
the first phase in the development of nervous matter. This 
arrangement is persistently repeated in the various species of 
this genus. In the Mollusca and Articulata this oesophageal 
or oral circle is one of the most essential features of nervous 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. 169 

structure. From this nervous ring gradually more and more 
nervous cords are distributed to other portions of the body, 
and as the functions of these organisms become further differ- 
entiated several centres of nerve ganglia make their appear- 
ance. 

Thus in the higher Mollusca the oral or oesophageal nervous 
centre is divided into an upper and lower centre or ganglia. 
The upper, or cephalic, gives off nerves to the labial and olfac- 
tory tentacula, to the eyes, and to the muscular apparatus of 
the mouth ; the lower, or pedal, sends nerves to the foot and to 
the organs of hearing. A third centre, the parieto-splanchnic, 
is usually situate on the posterior part of the body, and dis- 
tributes its nerves to the muscular and sensitive parietes of 
the body, to the shell muscle or muscles, to the branchial 
apparatus, and to the heart and large vessels. These different 
centres are connected by commissural bands. 

Beside the foregoing ganglia and nerves, we find in many 
of the Gasteropoda a separate system connected with the com- 
plicated apparatus of manducation and deglutition. This set 
of nerves and ganglia may be called, from its distribution, the 
stomato- gastric system. A distinct visceral or sympathetic 
system of nerves, consisting of a multitude of minute ganglia 
and of a network of filaments, dispersed through the various 
parts of the apparatus of organic life, and communicating with 
the stomato-gastric system, has been clearly made out (by Mr. 
Hancock and Dr. Embleton, in Philosoph. Transact, 1852, and 
others) among the nudibranehiate Gastropods, and it probably 
exists elsewhere. (Carpenter, Comparative Physiology, p. 647.) 

In the Articulata, except in their lowest forms (the Vermi- 
form tribes), we find a longitudinal gangliated cord cor- 
responding to the spinal cord of the Vertebrata, with this 
difference, that instead of lying beneath the dorsal or upper 
surface, as in the Vertebrata, it occupies the ventral or inferior 
surface of their bodies. In its function it corresponds pre- 
cisely with that of the spinal cord of the Vertebrata. 

But "there is no distinct trace, in Articulates generally, 
of anything that can be fairly considered homologous with 
the cerebrum or the cerebellum of Vertebrates; the first sub- 

12 



170 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

oesophageal ganglion (cephalic ganglion), which has been 
likened to the latter, being really homologous (as the dis- 
tribution of its nerves abundantly proves) with the medulla 
oblongata." (Carpenter, Comparative Physiology, p. 656.) 

With the Vertebrata the arrangement of the nervous system 
takes another turn. The longitudinal gangliated cord now 
occupies the dorsal portion of the body, and its cephalic gan- 
glia become an immediate continuation of it ; all lie above the 
alimentary canal, and form a continuous mass of nervous 
matter — the craniospinal axis, which consists of the medulla 
spinalis, the medulla oblongata, and the chain of sensory gan- 
glia. The oesophageal ring, which was the most characteristic 
feature of the previous classes, disappears. 

In the lowest class of these new organizations, the Amphi- 
oxus, there is no trace of either a cerebrum or a cerebellum, 
and the Cyclostome fishes in general show no other advance- 
ment save a larger development of their sensory ganglia. In 
all the higher classes of fishes, however, and Vertebrata in 
general, we find an additional development of nerve-matter, 
namely, the cerebral ganglia or hemispheres, which overtop 
the sensory ganglia, and the cerebellar hemispheres, which 
overlap the medulla oblongata. At first the sensory ganglia 
by far predominate over the rudimentary beginnings of the 
cerebral hemispheres, until after many intermediate and suc- 
cessive developments from one type to the other, the cerebrum 
gains so much predominance in size, as well as in complexity 
of structure, that the sensory ganglia become completely 
covered and hidden by it. The cerebellum likewise begins 
merely as a rudimentary thin layer of nerve-matter on the 
median line, until by successive developments it gradually 
attains, in the higher classes, to considerable size and com- 
plexity of structure, consisting of a central portion and two 
lobes or hemispheres. (Compare Carpenter, Comparative Physi- 
ology, p. 663.) 

This gradual development of the nervous system we find 
invariably associated, not only with a gradual differentiation 
of tissues, organs and functions in the animal economy, but 
also (and this is our most important consideration) with a 



THE SYMPATHETIC NERVOUS SYSTEM. 171 

more and more pronounced conscious activity or intelligence, a 
development which exists nowhere except in organisms en- 
dowed with nerve-structure. This inseparable union again 
demonstrates the existence in nerve-structure of a potential 
capacity for development into consciousness. 

72. The Sympathetic Nervous System. 

Conscious development we find least pronounced in the 
sympathetic system ; yet that a certain degree of sensibility 
exists in its ganglia we would necessarily be compelled to 
infer (even if positive experiments had not proved it) from 
the observation of subjective sensations. We may count in 
this class the pleasurable feelings of bodily comfort, ease, con- 
valescence, of health, vigor and strength; the painful feel- 
ings of bodily oppression, anxiousness, restlessness, sickness, 
wretchedness, indisposition, heaviness, goneness, exhaustion, 
feverishness, etc. ; the conative feelings of loathing, nausea, 
hunger, thirst, uneasiness, etc. ; the positive bodily conations 
or desires for light and air, for all sorts of food and drinks, for 
evacuating the bowels or bladder, for sexual intercourse, for 
being carried about (in children), or moving about, or keeping 
still, or being lazy, etc. Many more sensations might be 
added, and many are so obscure as to defy description. It is 
possible, however, that some of those just enumerated, do not 
belong to the sphere of the sympathetic system alone, as this 
system is blended throughout its extent with cerebro-spinal 
nerves. But to assign the separate origins of these lowest 
conscious developments, neither internal perception nor ana- 
tomical and physiological observation is competent. What 
anatomical and physiological researches have brought to light 
in regard to the sympathetic system is briefly as follows : " The 
sympathetic ganglia receive motor and sensory filaments from 
the cerebro-spinal nerves, as already stated, and some filaments 
of the sympathetic pass to the cerebro-spinal centres. The 
filaments of the sympathetic are connected at or near their 
termination with ganglionic cells, not only in the heart and 
uterus, but in the bloodvessels, lymphatics, the submucous 



172 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

and muscular layer of the entire alimentary canal, the salivary 
glands, liver, pancreas, larynx, trachea, pulmonary tissue, 
bladder, ureters, the entire generative apparatus, suprarenal 
capsules, thymus gland, lachrymal canals, ciliary muscle, and 
the iris." (Mayer.) " The sympathetic ganglia prove to be 
endowed with a certain degree of sensibility, which, however, 
is of a duller nature than that of the ordinary sensory nerves." 
(Nervous System, by Austin Flint, p. 424.) 

Comparing these results of anatomical and physiological 
research in the sympathetic nervous system with the results 
of observation upon ourselves, we find that they closely 
correspond. The feelings or sensations we have in these 
nerve-centres (some of which have been enumerated above) 
are for the most part of a very obscure and indefinite char- 
acter indeed. Nevertheless, these sensations may be roused 
sometimes to such intensity that they overshadow and thwart 
even the higher mental developments of sound judgment, etc. 
To exemplify this, I need refer only to hypochondriacs and 
hysterical women. In both cases there exist morbid dis- 
turbances of the sympathetic system which make themselves 
felt in its nerve-centres. These sensations first appear ob- 
scurely, but gradually, through their long continuance, attain 
an intensity which gives them actual preponderance over 
higher mental modifications. Such persons cannot do other- 
wise than constantly talk of their misery, and, trying to dis- 
cover its cause, frequently work themselves into the strangest 
and most absurd delusions. 

In conformity with the view that a nerve-cell in general 
possesses a potentiality of conscious development, we must 
claim this power for the ganglia of the sympathetic system also. 
We would otherwise be at a loss where to locate the commence- 
ment of this power. To deny to one tissue what we attribute 
to another of the same kind, w r ould surely not be admissible 
in logical reasoning. Therefore to the nerve-cells of the sym- 
pathetic system we must assign a certain capability for con- 
scious development, how T ever feeble. In the chain of animal 
organisms we find the simplest nerve-structure to be the start- 
ing point of conscious development, and in the human organ- 



THE SYMPATHETIC NERVOUS SYSTEM. 173 

ism we may consider the sympathetic system as the lowest 
base for the unfolding of the same process. This view is 
further enforced by the similarity of the sympathetic system 
with the cerebro-spinal system. Both have their ganglionic 
centres, and both are connected at or near their peripheral 
terminations with ganglionic cells. 

By the rami communicantes filaments from the cerebro- 
spinal nerves the sympathetic system is in certain communi- 
cation with the spinal and cerebral centres. This explains 
the mutual, though limited, influence of one system upon the 
other, which is so clearly defined in cases where conscious 
developments of the sympathetic sj'stem become so intense as 
to obscure the consciousness of a higher plane, and where, on 
the other hand, mental emotions greatly influence the sym- 
pathetic system ; as, for example, in the well-known instances 
where fright blanches the cheeks, or the bashful blush, or 
where worry impedes and success increases digestion, etc. 

The sensibility of the sympathetic system has never been 
considered as constituting anything like an independent sense. 
At least, its peculiar manifestations, which could not well be 
denied, have been thrown with other sensations into one com- 
mon class, the so-called " common or general sense of feeling;" 
and this again has been crudely confused with the sense of 
touch ; for all the world still speaks of five senses : sight, hearing, 
smell, taste, and feeling. But scores of convictions, sanctioned 
by centuries, have sunk into oblivion before a widening 
science ; and we need not recoil from the doubt as dangerous, 
if even the sacred limitation of our senses to five should prove 
to be a product of incomplete observation. The latest re- 
searches of Mayer in Strieker's Handbuch der Lehre von den 
Geweben, Leipzig, 1871, p. 820, show "that near the terminal 
filaments of the sympathetic, in most of the parts to which 
these fibres are distributed, there exist numerous ganglionic 
cells ; " and, as this is precisely a characteristic arrangement 
of all the other "special" senses, we are fully entitled also 
to consider the sympathetic system as being the basis of an 
independent sense. 

This view is strengthened by psychological considerations. 



174 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

Hunger, thirst, sexual desire, and a great number of other 
sensations in the sympathetic system, are so distinctly sui 
generis, that only great laxity in discrimination can allow 
them to be classified with the "general sense of feeling." This 
is best illustrated by the system of provings of drugs upon the 
healthy body, which was introduced by Hahnemann and has 
been continued by his followers, consisting of the closest obser- 
vation of subjective symptoms arising from the drugs taken; 
symptoms, by the way, which frequently are of the highest 
importance in the selection of the corresponding remedy in a 
given case of disease, but hidden from the self-styled "physi- 
ological " school by their crude ignorance of the finer shades 
of drug action. Still, it must be admitted, as has been in- 
timated, that a distinction between sensations of the sym- 
pathetic system and the general sense of feeling is not practic- 
able in every given case, because these sensations are of the 
lowest order of conscious development, and the sympathetic 
nerves are so intimately interwoven with cerebro-spinal fila- 
ments, that anatomical research has not been able as yet to 
trace them separately to their respective terminations. 

73. General Sensibility, or Common or General 
Sense of Feeling. 

The nerves through which the general sense of feeling finds 
expression are cranio-spinal nerves, and their action is said 
to differ from the other " special " sensory nerves in that a 
stimulation of the same causes pain. Now, this assumption 
rests wholly upon the crude observations which have been 
mainly made by cutting, pinching, and cauterizing. The 
stimulation of these nerves does not cause pain, unless it is an 
O'yer-stimulation, and an overstimulation will certainly, and 
in the case of every nerve, cause pain. In fact, overstimula- 
tion of a nerve is the very definition of pain (25). Pain is 
always and everywhere the product of an overstimulation in 
any of the sensory nerves, and it cannot, therefore, be con- 
sidered as a special phenomenon of the general sense of feeling. 
Beside, pain is very different in its character, according to 



GENERAL SENSIBILITY. 175 

the nature of the stimulus which causes it, and the nature of 
the organs in which this overstimulation takes place. Fire 
burns, acrid things smart, a blow stuns, a fall causes bruised 
pain, and so on. Overstimulations in the nerves of mucous 
membranes are frequently characterized as burning, affec- 
tions of serous membranes mostly as acute stitching, affections 
of bones as boring, affections of muscles as bruised, sore, lan- 
cinating sensations, and so on ; while neuralgia proper assumes 
all sorts of painful sensations, such as burning, stinging, 
throbbing, beating, etc. This being so, it is plain that "pain" 
is only a general expression signifying overstimulation of 
sentient nerves. Since overstimulation may be caused by the 
most varied stimuli, and takes widely diverse and opposite 
forms even in the same organ, pain cannot be considered as the 
special function of the general sense of feeling. 

In the explication of these particular sensations, however, 
we must always bear in mind that in the lower senses it is 
frequently most difficult, and sometimes impossible, to decide 
absolutely whether certain sensations originate in the sympa- 
thetic system, or in sentient nerves of the cranio-spinal system, 
for reasons above stated. There are forms of hemicrania, for 
instance, which undoubtedly seem to be caused, according to 
Du Bois-Reymond's observations, by an irritation of the cer- 
vical portion of the sympathetica, causing tetanus of the mus- 
cular coats in the vessels of the affected side ; while on the 
other hand numerous other forms of neuralgia appear to have 
nothing to do with the sympatheticus. Such are the neu- 
ralgias of the facial, intercostal, crural, sciatic, and other nerves 
by irritation of some kind, and the numb feeling, the crawling 
and tingling, etc., from pressure and the like upon them, or 
from pressure upon or disease of, their centres. As further 
instances of the functions of the general sense of feeling, may 
be mentioned the sensations w T e receive from the coolness or 
warmth of the atmosphere, and from its sultriness, dampness, 
or dryness ; also the sensations of tickling, irritation, itching, 
burning, etc., caused by various agents, when applied to the 
skin, or to its inverted portions, the mucous membranes of the 
respiratory organs, or the alimentary canal ; also sensations of 



176 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

comfort or distress, which well-fitting or ill-fitting apparel 
may produce. In these last instances we see that sensations 
of the general sense of feeling border closely on the sensations 
derived from the sense of touch. Anatomical researches fully 
explain this. We find the tactile corpuscles and terminal bulbs 
of Krause spread, to some degree, over a large portion of the 
general surface, so that a commingling of both kinds of sensa- 
tions must frequently take place. 

What we know thus far of the terminations of nerves min- 
istering to what we call general sensibility, as distinguished 
from the sense of touch, is the following: Non-medullated 
nerve-fibres pass to the true skin between the cells of the rete 
Malpighii. There they assume the form of small cells, which 
lie between the cells of the lower stratum of the rete, from 
which still smaller filaments issue toward the upper stratum, 
and finally, somewhat enlarged, terminate beneath the stra- 
tum corneum. These nerve-fibres have no connection with 
the tactile corpuscles. (Paul Langerhaus, Virchow's Arcltiv, 
vol. 44, p. 325 ; Max Schultze, in Strieker's Lehre von den Gewe- 
ben, vii, p. 136.) Further: " Medullated nerve-fibres form a 
plexus in the deeper layers of the true skin, from which fibres, 
some pale and nucleated, and others medullated, pass to the 
hair-follicles (Kolliker), divide into branches, penetrate into 
the interior, and there are lost. A certain number of fibres 
pass to the non-striated muscular fibres of the skin ; a certain 
number pass to the papilke that have no tactile corpuscles. 
In the mucous membranes the mode of termination is, in 
general terms, in a delicate plexus just beneath the epithelium, 
coming from a submucous plexus analogous to the deep cuta- 
neous plexus." (Austin Flint, Nervous System, p. 44.) The 
nerves of touch, on the other hand, terminate in tactile cor- 
puscles, probably also in the terminal bulbs of Krause, and 
in Vater's or Pacini's corpuscles. The difference between 
general sensibility and touch is also proved by the fact that 
when the tactile corpuscles have been destroyed (by ulceration, 
for instance), touch is gone, but pain may be produced ; or 
that the sense of temperature may be lost, while the sense of 
touch still remains. Now, these two lowest senses, that of the 



THE MUSCULAR SENSE AND THE SENSE OF TOUCH. 177 

sympathetic system and that of the sentient cranio-spinal 
nerves (called the general sense of feeling), we might designate 
as vital senses in contradistinction to those yet to be considered 
(the organic senses), as their office seems to be to announce the 
regularity or irregularity in which the functiones vitales of the 
organism are performed. The sense of the sympathetic system 
seems to be acted upon mainly by stimuli within the organ- 
ism itself, while the sense of general feeling receives impres- 
sions from external stimuli. But this distinction is of no great 
importance, inasmuch as the stimuli within the organism 
itself are just as well external to the recipient nerves as those 
which come from outside of the body, to stimulate all the 
other sensory nerves. 

74. The Muscular Sense and the Sense of Touch. 

" The muscles undoubtedly possess nerve-fibres other than 
those exclusively devoted to motion ; for, in addition to the 
motory fibres, Kolliker and some others have noted fibres 
with a different mode of termination. These Kolliker be- 
lieves to be sensitive nerves, but their mode of termination 
has not been so definitely described as in the fibres with ter- 
minal motor j)lates." (Austin Flint, Nervous System, p. 33.) 

" The muscles, too, possess sensibility, but it is of a peculiar 
nature, as stinging, burning or cutting do not cause any note- 
worthy sensations, but they feel sore from long-continued 
action, become painful from convulsive contractions or press- 
ure, and have a very fine feeling of their own contraction, to 
such a degree, that they discern the slightest differences in 
their exertions needed for different exercises." (Kolliker, 
Mikroskopische Anatomie, Vol. I, p. 267.) 

" There can be no doubt that in every exertion of the will 
upon the muscular system w r e are guided by the sensations 
communicated through the afferent nerves, which indicate to 
the sensoriurn the state of the muscle. Many interesting 
cases are on record which show the necessity of this muscular 
sense for determining voluntary contraction of the muscle. 
Thus Sir C. Bell (who first prominently directed attention to 



178 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

this class of facts under the designation of the nervous circle) 
mentions an instance of a woman who was deprived of it in 
her arms without losing the motor power, and who stated that 
she could not sustain anything in her hands (not even her 
child) by the strongest effort of her will, unless she kept 
her eyes constantly fixed upon it, the muscles losing their 
jDOwer and the hands dropping the object as soon as the eyes 
were withdrawn from it. Here the employment of the visual 
sense supplied the deficiency of the muscular." (Carpenter, 
Comparative Physiology, p. 680.) 

" I have seen a similar instance recently of a woman, epi- 
leptic in consequence of syphilis, who had lost the muscular 
sense in her left arm, and who did not know, except she looked 
at the limb, whether she had got hold of anything with her 
hand or not; if she grasped a jug she could hold it quite well 
as long as she looked at it, but if she looked away she then 
dropped it; she had no loss of tactile sensation. Ollivier details 
a case in which the patient had lost the cutaneous sense of 
touch throughout the side in consequence of concussion. At 
the same time he was able to form a correct estimate of the 
weight with his right hand. The physician, observed by 
Marcet, who was affected with anaesthesia cutanea of the right 
side, was perfectly able to feel his patient's pulse with the fin- 
gers of the right hand, and to determine its frequency and 
force, but in order to determine the temperature of the skin 
he was obliged to call in the aid of his left hand." (Maudsley, 
The Physiology and Pathology of the Mind, p. 174.) 

This muscular sense is extended over all the voluntary 
muscles, to which it is the indispensable guide for their actions. 
The wonderful adaption of movement of both eyes for seeing 
purposes; the no less wonderful concert in the action of the 
muscles to produce talking and singing ; the skilful exercises 
of the hands which the artist as violinist, pianist, painter, or 
engraver, etc., which the mechanic, the writer, the seamstress, 
etc., perform ; the motions of the legs and body in walking, 
jumping, dancing, and gymnastic exercises, and so on. None 
of these would be possible without a muscular sense, an ability 
to perceive the exact state of muscular tension or relaxation, 



THE SENSE OF TASTE AND THE SENSE OF SMELL. 179 

and an exact estimation of the degree of contraction necessary 
for a required motion. This implies, indeed, not only the 
very great acuteness of the muscular sense, but also the great 
celerity with which the impressions upon it are received and 
executed. 

The sense of touch is anatomically easily distinguished by 
its tactile corpuscles, and probably also by Krause's terminal 
bulbs, which bear some analogy to the tactile corpuscles and 
Vater's corpuscles, but are much smaller and more simple in 
their structure. They are found in the conjunctiva bulbi, the 
lips, the floor of the buccal cavity, the tongue, the glans penis 
and the clitoris. The functional action of the sense of touch 
is very closely blended with that of the muscular sense. By 
both we perceive the externality of things, their extension, 
form, hardness, softness, roughness, smoothness, etc.; but this 
is possible only by certain muscular motions and a fine estima- 
tion of the force applied necessary to appreciate the form of 
external objects, which, as has been stated, is the particular 
office of the muscular sense. We become conscious of the 
extension, form, roughness, or smoothness of things by 
moving our fingers over their surfaces, and their hardness 
or softness reveals itself to our consciousness if we make a 
certain pressure upon them, and thus find, by estimating the 
force required to change their form, the actual resistance of 
the substances against pressure; that is, their hardness or 
softness. 

75. The Sense of Taste and the Sense of Smell. 

A part of the glossopharyngeal, which is the smallest of the 
three divisions of the eighth pair, and a small filament from 
the facial to the lingual branch of the fifth pair, unite to form 
what are collectively called the gustatory nerves. 

According to the researches of Eemak and Kolliker, there 
is a difference between the microscopical terminal structures 
of the glosso-pharyngeus and lingualis. The first terminates 
in microscopic ganglia, which the lingualis does not possess 
(compare Kolliker 's Mikroscopische Anatomie, Vol. II, p. 32), and 



180 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

it is quite possible that this difference in their terminal ar- 
rangement determines also a difference in their functions. 
The principal localities of taste are the upper surface of the 
root of the tongue (especially the papillae circumvallatce), the 
edges of the tip of the tongue, and probably also the front 
part of the soft palate. The terminal apparatus of gustation, 
only lately discovered and described by Loven and Schwalbe, 
consists of numerous microscopic groups of cells, which are 
superimposed upon the fibres of the glosso-pharyngeus, and 
which have been called gustatory buds (" Geschmacks-Knospen" 
by Loven, and " Schmeckbecher" by Schwalbe). These buds are 
imbedded within the little cavities formed by the epithelium 
of the mucous membrane, which they completely fill out. 
The form of these cavities resembles that of a round-bellied 
bottle or retort; their bottoms rest upon the surface of the 
connective tissue of the mucosa, and their necks pierce the 
stratum corneum of the epithelium, where they form a circular 
opening or mouth. The gustatory buds are frequently found 
by hundreds on the lateral portions of the papillae circumval- 
latae, in less number on the lateral portions of the papillae 
fungiformes. They consist of fifteen to thirty ellipsoidal cells, 
which are arranged in a manner similar to the leaflets of a flower 
bud. Their upper or peripheral portion gradually tapers off in 
width, and terminates near the mouth of the cavity, either in 
the shape of a peg (" Stiftchen") or in the shape of a rod. Their 
bodies consist of a vesicle-like nucleus, while their lower cyl- 
indrical extremity at a short distance from the nucleus, dimin- 
ishes suddenly to one-third the size of the upper process, and 
splits into two somewhat smaller branches, which again divide 
once or several times before they reach the surface of the 
mucosa. The connection of the nerve-fibres with these gus- 
tatory buds has not been yet fully ascertained. We know 
only that the fibres of the glosso-pharyngeus, shortly before 
their entrance into the papillae circumvallatae, contain micro- 
scopic groups of ganglion cells. From here several bundles 
of fibres enter the papillae and divide into numerous fine, 
winding and decussating filaments, which radiate toward the 
epithelium. These filaments split into still finer branches and, 



THE SENSE OF TASTE AND THE SENSE OF SMELL. 181 

close beneath the epithelium, form a plexus. Most probably 
these finest filaments connect with the lower part of the gus- 
tatory buds. (Th. W. Engelmann, in Strieker's Handbuch der 
Lehre von den Geweben, p. 822.) 

The sense of smell has for its instrument the olfactory nerve, 
distributed to that portion of the mucous membrane lining 
about the upper third of the nose, and called the olfactory 
region. This surface is covered with epithelium, which con- 
sists of two layers, an outer or ciliary and an inner or cellular 
layer. The cells of the inner layer are of two kinds, larger 
ones of oval shape, situate more peripherally than the more 
numerous smaller cells, which are of spherical shape, lie lower 
in the inner layer, have two long and fine processes, of which 
the upper and thicker goes to the periphery, while the lower may 
be traced to the stratum of the subepithelial connective tissue. 
The upper terminates in the fine cilia above mentioned as the 
outer layer of the epithelium. These cells, with their terminal 
appendices, constitute, according to Max Schultze, the terminal 
apparatus of the sense of smell. How the peripheral cells of 
the organ of smell are connected with the olfactory nerve- 
fibres has not yet been fully demonstrated. It is probable, 
however, that the smallest fibrils of the olfactory nerve are in 
some way connected with the lower processes of the olfactory 
cells. (Babuchin, in Strieker's Handbuch, p. 964.) 

Smell and taste are closely related. We may perceive the 
same property of an object nearly alike with either of these 
senses. For instance, " sour or sweet," etc., can be recognized by 
both senses, and in the middle high German the expression 
for tasting and smelling is still not clearly separated by 
distinct words for either. 

The nature of the stimuli which excite the gustatory, as 
well as the olfactory nerves, we do not know. "We only know 
that the gustatory sense requires them in a fluid and the 
olfactory in a gaseous form ; that they probably appertain to 
the chemical constitution of different bodies, and also that 
we cannot become cognizant of them by any of the other 
senses. 



182 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 



'6. The Sense of Hearing. 



With even greater perfection than the preceding senses we 
find the terminal arrangements of the sense of hearing con- 
structed. Max Schultze found in the internal ear, especially 
in the vestibule and ampullae, the terminal fibres of the audi- 
tory nerve project through the epithelium and terminate in 
fine fibrils or cilia. The termination of the auditory nerve in 
the cochlea, which Corti first described, is a wonderfully com- 
plex and fine mechanism, in which rows of fibres with pedun- 
culated cells are found combined in such a manner as to forcibly 
suggest to the mind a striking resemblance to the keys and 
strings of a piano. It is difficult, however, to decide which of 
these terminal structures are nervous and which are not. 

The external stimuli, or the sounds which originate in the 
various ways by which the surrounding air is thrown into a 
state of vibration, have to take the following course before they 
reach the recipient faculties. At first they wind their way 
through the external meatus, and cause a corresponding vibra- 
tion of the membrana tympani. This vibration is transferred 
through the ossicles from the tympanum to the membrane 
covering the fenestra ovalis, which again sets into vibration 
the fluid contained within the labyrinth, and thus the original 
external stimulus finally reaches the wonderfully constructed 
mechanism within the labyrinth. There are about three 
thousand fibres of varying length and tension contained within 
the walls of the cochlea. They are regularly arranged side by 
side like the keys of a piano, and their functions have been 
explained by Helmholtz on the theory of the sympathy of 
sounds. It is generally known that strings of the same length 
and tension, when in close neighborhood, commence to vibrate 
if only one is set in motion, and that they all sound if the 
impulse upon the first is strong enough to cause a sufficient 
intensity of vibration. In case, however, of strings of different 
tension and length, although lying in close neighborhood, the 
vibration of one may cause the other to move but not to sound, 
as the degree of movement of their vibrations is altogether dif- 
ferent. In like manner, according to Helmholtz, out of the 



THE SENSE OF SIGHT. 183 

numerous and variously tuned fibres of Corti, only those 
answer to external impulses which correspond according to 
their length and tension with these impulses; and thus it is 
possible, for instance, to discern in a complicated piece of 
music the many and various notes even singly. Of course 
this requires a perfect and well-tuned mechanism of Corti's 
fibres within the ear. But even here the course of the external 
stimuli has not ended, for these fibres do not hear, they merely 
vibrate, and not until this peculiar stimulation is transmitted 
by special nerve-filaments of the auditorius to the central organ 
is this vibration perceived as sound or noise. 

77. The Sense of Sight. 

The sense of sight is the most perfect of all the senses. 
After the optic nerve has made its entrance into the bulb of 
the eye at a place called the papilla nervi optici — or sometimes 
the blind spot of the retina, from the fact that it is not suscep- 
tible to the impressions of light — its filaments, losing their 
medullary substance, spread in all directions and form partly 
the anterior layer of the retina, which joins by its limiting 
membrane the hyaloid membrane of the vitreous body. Back 
of this expansion of the non-medullated optic nerve-fibres there 
have been distinctly traced several other layers, which consti- 
tute the retina, and which, in the order from front to back, are 
as follows : A layer of ganglion cells ; a layer of gray nervous 
substance, which is a fine granular layer, and which has also 
been called the inner fibrous layer ; a layer of granule cells, or 
the inner granular layer ; an intermediate granular layer, or 
the outer fibrous layer ; an outer granular layer, and the layer 
of rods and cones. The terminal parts of the rods and cones 
consist, according to recent researches of Max Schultze, of ex- 
tremely fine and transparent lamellae, which are bounded by 
the dark pigment of the choroidea. They appear of different 
thicknesses, but are so fine that from thirty thousand to 
seventy thousand would be required to make one inch of 
thickness 

The various colors of a soap-bubble furnish the instance 



184 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

most popularly known, in which fine lamellae, although color- 
less in themselves, assume various colors when they reach a 
certain degree of tenuity, and the degree of tenuity determines 
the color they reflect. It is possible, then, although it is not 
proved as yet, that this terminal structure of the rods and 
cones of the retina responds to the various colors of light in a 
similar manner as the fibres of Corti in the cochlea answer to 
their corresponding sounds; and, as Max Schultze has further 
observed, that the terminal filaments of the optic nerve-fibres 
are accessories to the rods and cones on which they exteriorly 
lean, it appears, and it is thus histologically scarcely to be 
doubted, that the vibrations of light first communicated to the 
lamellae of either the rods or cones, accordingly as they corres- 
pond, are thus transmitted to special terminal nerve-filaments, 
by which they are conveyed to the central organ. It is thus 
not the eye that sees, although its wonderful construction is 
the necessary condition for the reception of the vibrations of 
the ether, causing light. 

78. Stimuli, Excitants, or External Stimuli. 

It may be here stated in general, that it is not the external 
things themselves which act as stimuli upon the recipient 
organs, but that it is only certain qualities of the same which, 
being varied and different, require for their reception sensory 
organs constructed in reciprocal relation to them. From this 
consideration alone it may be surmised that the knowledge 
we gain of the external world will never amount to an adequate 
cognition (" An-sich-Erkenntniss "), but will remain forever a 
cognition of its effects (" Wirkungs-Erkentniss ") only. 

So far as the luminous stimuli have been investigated, we 
are told by physicists that they consist, like those of heat, of 
various vibrations of the ether. The relatively greatest rapid- 
ity is produced by the violet rays of the spectrum, while the 
relatively slowest motion is that of the red rays. Above and 
below these in rapidity of vibration are still others, which, 
however, cease to excite our visual apparatus under usual con- 
ditions. Those equalling and exceeding the violet rays in 



STIMULI, EXCITANTS, OR EXTERNAL STIMULI. 185 

rapidity of vibration are called actinic (chemical) rays, while 
those below the rapidity of the red rays are perceived as heat. 
Now, if all this be correct, and if smell and taste are per- 
ceivers of the chemical constitution of external bodies, and 
the nerves of general sensibility perceivers of heat (beside 
other qualities), we would recognize the most rapid vibrations 
of the ether by smell and taste, and the slowest by the nerves 
of general sensibility. Provided that these investigations are 
correct, we would be capable of seeing chemical as well as 
thermic vibrations of the ether, if the terminal apparatus of 
the optic nerve had been made responsive to them. It 
appears, then, that what we call light, luminous stimulus, or 
visual excitant, is practically limited to boundaries fixed by 
the terminal structure of the eye. There are indeed cases of 
innate incapability for seeing certain colors, as for instance 
the extreme red, which would denote an unusual narrowing 
of the natural visual limit. An extension above or below the 
fixed limits of normal human vision is unknown, and whether 
it may or may not exist in the various species of animals has 
never been ascertained. 

The auditory stimuli consist of vibrations of the air, which, 
according to Helmholtz's measurements, range between sixteen 
vibrations to thirty-eight thousand in a second. This, how- 
ever, relates only to very fine ears ; less delicately constructed 
organs do not perceive audible vibrations to such an extent. 
Thus, for instance, it is asserted that some people are absolutely 
deaf to the song of a lark, the chirping of a locust, or the 
scream of a bat, but have no other than this one special audi- 
tory disqualification. The real musical tones are limited in 
their rapidity to a range between forty and four thousand 
vibrations in a second, while, as has been stated, the range of 
audible sounds in general is much wider. 

The question, then, comes up, do vibrations that overpass 
these limits at either extreme produce no sound whatever? 
Or, are there no other sounds than those which lie within the 
boundaries of sixteen and thirty-eight thousand vibrations in 
a second ? For the human ear, it seems, there are none ; but 
it is surely conceivable that among the lower orders of animals 
13 



18G PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

some may possess organs so constructed both for producing 
and receiving sound, that there exists for them a range and a 
variety of vibrations where the human ear perceives absolutely 
none. 

The stimuli which act upon the olfactory and gustatory nerve- 
fibres are probably, as has been stated, related to the chemical 
constitution of external bodies, and as such would exceed in 
rapidity the visual vibrations of the ether. We have no further 
knowledge of them. 

The stimuli for the sense of touch and the muscular sense 
seem to consist of various degrees of pressure and traction upon 
the corresponding sensory nerves. It does not matter whether 
this pressure or traction be caused by the motion of external 
things, or by the motion of our own muscles in relation to 
them. In either case it is motion by which we become cogni- 
zant of the quality of resistance which external things mani- 
fest when in contact with our own body, and w T hich w r e recog- 
nize by the joint action of the sense of touch and the muscular 
sense. We may state, then, that even in the case of these 
senses the essential character of their stimulation consists of 
motion. 

This relates probabty in some degree, also, to the stimuli 
w r hich act upon the sentient nerves, or the sense of general 
feeling ; although a very important part of their action seems 
to consist in the perception of heat, which again, as has been 
stated, is motion, namely, the vibration of the ether, of less 
rapidity than that of the red ra}^s of the spectrum. 

The nature of the stimuli by w T hich the sympathetic nervous 
system is affected, is wrapped in still greater mystery, but con- 
sists probably to a great extent of the molecular motions un- 
ceasingly going on within the living organism. So long as 
these motions proceed in harmony, they are not perceptible ; 
only an excess or deficiency in their action, that is, a disturb- 
ance in the equilibrium of the natural molecular motion, 
manifests itself in corresponding sensation. One must have 
been a prover of drugs in order to be capable of appreciating 
this wonderful reaction of the human organism against even 
the finest agencies. 



THE SENSORY NERVE-CENTRES. 187 

We may, then, sum up and define the various stimuli which 
excite corresponding sensory organs, as agencies (the essential 
nature of which consists in motion) of motion of the ether, 
of the air, of solids, of fluids, and of molecules. 

79. The Sensory Nerve-Centres. 

The origins of the nerves are far from being discovered. 
We know only that they centre in the gray matter or in the 
vesicular nervous substance (distinguished from the white by 
its dark reddish-gray color and soft consistence). It is com- 
posed in great part, as its name implies, of vesicles or corpuscles, 
commonly called nerve or ganglion corpuscles, containing 
nuclei and nucleoli. These nerve-corpuscles vary in size and 
shape. Some are larger than others ; some have one, two or 
more processes, which occasionally divide and subdivide into 
numerous branches, and terminate in fine transparent fibres, 
which either become lost among the other elements, or maybe 
traced until they become continuous with an ordinary nerve- 
fibre. 

Of gray matter we may distinguish the following groups : 

1. The peripheral layer of the cerebrum, or its cortical gray ; 

2. The conglomerations of gray matter in the cerebral ganglia 
(corpora quadrigemina, thalami optici, and corpora striata), 
the ganglionic gray ; 

3. The gray matter which lines the ventricular surfaces 
from the tuber cinereum to the conus medullaris, the central 
or cavity gray ; 

4. The gray matter of the superficial and deep layers of the 
cerebellum, and the gray substance which lies imbedded 
between the fibrous matter of the cerebrum and the cere- 
bellum ; and, 

5. The gray matter of the numerous ganglia outside the 
brain and spinal cord. (Compare Meynert, in Strieker, 1872.) 

The optic nerve arises from the ganglionic gray of the 
thalami optici, of the corpora geniculata, which appear like 
appendices to the thalamus, and of the corpora quadrigemina. 
These variously derived fibres combine in one flattened band, 



188 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

the optic tract, where they are again joined by some fibres 
issuing from a small yellow stria of spindle-shaped nerve- 
cells, which is inserted between the substantia perforata an- 
terior and the optic tract. A similar augmentation of fibres 
takes place in the anterior surface of the chiasma or com- 
missure from the lamina cinerea terminalis and the pedunculus 
corporis callosi. (Compare Henle, Ncrvenlehre, p. 248, etc.) 

Physiological experiments do not seem to agree fully with 
these anatomical researches. For, although the destruction of 
the corpora quadrigemina is followed by blindness, or the 
destruction of the bulbus by atrophy of the corpora quadri- 
gemina (in both cases of the opposite side), experiments with 
the thalamus have not sustained its anatomical relation to the 
optic nerve. The fibres derived from it serve probably some 
other purpose or purposes thus far unknown, while the actual 
capability of receiving the external luminous stimuli seems 
to be located within the corpora quadrigemina. The structure 
of these bodies is quite complex, and their connection with 
other parts of the brain is manifold. 

The auditory nerve (Sommering's eighth pair and Willis' 
portio mollis of the seventh pair) arises from the central gray 
around the floor of the fourth ventricle. According to Henle 
(Nervenlehre, p. 208, etc.), it has three nuclei from which it 
issues, a superior, inferior and lateral. The relation, however, 
which these different roots bear to the different parts of the 
inner ear, and whether the division of the auditory nerve into 
the nervus cochlea? and nervus vestibuli is founded in its dif- 
ferent roots, or whether the additional fibres of the nervus 
facialis and nervus intermedins bring any new and peculiar 
elements into its functions, is not yet known. 

The olfactory nerve, or the first pair of cranial nerves, is the 
only sensory nerve which takes its origin in the cortical gray, 
namely, in the inferior surface of the anterior lobe of the cere- 
brum. It arises from three roots, an external or long, a middle 
or gray, and an internal or short root. By these roots the 
nerve is connected with various parts of the lobe and the great 
ganglia of the brain. In uniting, these radical fibres form the 
olfactory nerve, which, in its course forward, expands into the 



THE SENSORY NERVE-CENTRES. 189 

bulbus olfactorius, from which numerous filaments depart to 
be distributed over the olfactory region of the nose. 

The gustatory nerves, consisting of part of the glosso-pharyn- 
geus and part of the trigeminus, both arise from the central 
gray of the floor of the fourth ventricle. (Henle, Nervenlehre, 
p. 221.) How they act together or differ in their function of 
gustation is entirely unknown. 

A still greater want of positive knowledge (anatomically as 
well as physiologically) we meet when we wish to trace the 
nerves of touch, of the muscular sense, and of the "common or 
general feeling " to their respective origins. Indeed, in this 
respect we know only that they arise from the central and 
cavity gray of the spinal marrow, with the exception of those 
sentient nerve-fibres which, as the greater portion of the 
trigeminus and the sentient part of the glosso-pharyngeus, 
take their origin within the central gray of the floor of the 
fourth ventricle. But of the origin of their separate fibres 
as distinguished by different functional qualities, we know 
nothing at all. 

Lusanna thinks (Meissner's Jahresbericht, 1870), that the 
nerves of the muscular sense have their centre in the cere- 
bellum, as injury or extirpation of the same is attended with 
a loss of equilibrium in motion, which equilibrium, according 
to his view, is sustained by a healthy operation of the muscu- 
lar sense. But as, according to Schiff, animals which have 
been deprived of their cerebellum, if they remain alive, regain 
after a lapse of some time the regular use of their limbs, 
Lusanna's and also Flourens' hypothesis — according to which 
latter the cerebellum is the centre of co-ordinate motions — 
becomes doubtful, as an extirpated centre could hardly ever 
find its functions compensated by any other organ.* In short, 
we are not yet able to trace the nerves of general sensibility to 
separate origins, which would in any way correspond to and 
explain their actually different functional qualities. 

Regarding the " molecular" sense, if I may use this expression 

* Still more recent experiments of Nothnagel, Fritsch and Hitzig seem to 
place the centre of the muscular sense in the external end of the post-frontal 
convolution. ( Brown-Sequard's Archives, 1873.) 



190 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

to signify the sensations we receive through the ganglionic or 
sympathetic nervous system, it appears that its nerves originate 
in the gray matter of the very numerous ganglia outside the 
brain and spinal cord, which are found in the two gangliated 
cords, one on each side of the vertebral column, from the base 
of the skull to the coccyx, and also numerously in such organs 
as minister specially to the generative and vegetative functions 
of life. The cells of the sympathetic ganglia have for the most 
part several processes ; they are, as it is termed technically, 
multipolar. These processes are either continuous w r ith nerve- 
fibres, or serve as communications with other cells. Beale and 
J. Arnold have independently discovered that in the ganglion 
cells of the sympatheticus there are two kinds of filaments, a 
straight one, and a spiral one wound around the straight one. 
As to the manner of their origin within the cells histologists 
do not agree, neither do they know the physiological meaning 
of these different processes. The sympathetic system is inti- 
mately connected with the cerebro-spinal centres by the rami 
communicantes, which consist of fibres running from the spinal 
marrow to the sympatheticus and, vice versa, from the sympa- 
theticus to the spinal cord. (Compare Dr. Sigmund Mayer, in 
Strieker, p. 809 et seq.) 

80. The Sensory Faculties. 

All these investigations do not, it appears, bring us much 
nearer to an understanding as to how and where our sensorial 
perceptions take place. The origins of the sensory nerves are 
still more or less wrapped in mystery. What has hitherto 
been taken for granted, viz. : that all the nerves arise from 
ganglionic cells, and that, therefore, not only sensorial percep- 
tions, but all mental activities originate by some sort of chemi- 
cal and molecular action within these cells, seems likely to 
prove fallacious. If the latest researches of Max Schultze are 
correct, it appears that the nerve-cell is essentially only an 
enlargement, with nucleus and nucleoli, of the axis-cylinder; 
that, therefore, it does not represent the beginning, but is 
merely an intervening expansion of the nerve in its course. 



THE SENSORY FACULTIES. 191 

The bipolar cell is to be so considered. In the case of the 
multipolar cells of the spinal marrow, from which, according 
to Deiters' discovery, an axis-cylinder issues to pass toward 
the periphery, while many other processes spread in different 
directions, the cell appears to be an intermediate station for 
the convergence of innumerable nerve-fibrils from different 
regions, in order to unite and form one axis-cylinder. Even 
here the axis-cylinder cannot be considered as originating 
within the nerve-cell. It is only made up there like the bulk 
of a main stream, from numerous tributaries, the source of 
which no one has yet discovered. The researches of Deiters 
also make it probable that the groups of ganglion cells, from 
which the cranial nerves arise, and . which have been made 
known by Stilling as the nuclei of sensory roots, consist of cells 
in form entirely similar to those of the anterior and posterior 
cornua of the spinal marrow, and that they, like these, send 
off only one axis-cylinder, which passes toward the periphery, 
while the other processes divide into innumerable primitive 
fibrils. (Compare Max Schultze, in Strieker's Handbuch der 
Lehre von den Geweben, 1872, p. 125 et seq.) 

If, then, we regard these researches as correct, we are still as 
far off from the discovery of the origin of these nerves (and 
what concerns us here especially, of the sensory nerves) than 
ever before. What thus far has been considered the source, 
has, under the trained eye of the histologist, been resolved 
into innumerable primitive fibrils that defy all tracing. The 
receptacles of the external stimuli and the laboratories for the 
sensations derived therefrom are gone. The nerve-cells turn 
out to be mere stations, where primitive fibrils from various 
regions meet, in order to form new combinations. And 
what seems particularly ominous for the old belief, this 
beginning of the nerves corresponds exactly to their peripheral 
termination. Apparently, in both the periphery and begin- 
ning, there is a splitting into innumerable primitive fibrils. 
To what purpose ? To meet on the one side external stimuli, 
the exact nature of which is covered with mystery ; and, on 
the other side, to communicate with a something that equally 
eludes our keenest scrutiny. Much nearer the truth appear to 
be Beale's researches. (Compare 94.) 



192 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

The honor is due to Henle, that amidst the strong current 
of " scientific" fashion and materialistic preclusions, he stands 
out boldly, and declares: "Only self-deceit can assert that a 
being (Wesen) which comprises all the manifold past and 
present modifications of our nerve-life into the union of self- 
consciousness, could be better understood by considering it a 
monad fixed in a certain place, than to regard it as an impon- 
derable which pervades the entire body." (Henle, Nervenlehre, 
p. 14, 1871.) This verdict of a savant, whom no one can accuse 
of ignorance of the anatomical and physiological researches 
of the present day, brings us a step farther in our investiga- 
tions. His acknowledgment of an imponderable being, the 
soul, which pervades the entire bod) 7 , places him in direct 
opposition to those who regard mental life as a chemical and 
molecular activity and development of the nerve-cells. It 
behooves us to examine more particularly into the merits of 
this materialistic belief. 

The belief that mental action consists in a chemical and 
molecular activity and development of the nerve-cells took its 
origin in the fact that a destruction of the brain involves a 
cessation of mental activity. Later, more exact experiments 
showed that a separation of the brain from the spinal column, 
although it withdrew the parts below the separation from all 
influence of the mind, did not deprive these parts of the capa- 
bility of becoming excited by external stimuli. A complete 
extinction of their sensibility could be induced only by their 
separation from the spinal cord also. These results, based 
upon these conditions, led to the belief that it was the gray 
substance in which all nerve-force originated, and that the 
nerves themselves were only the conductors of this force. There 
is not a book on physiology in which we do not find this view 
expounded and illustrated by the phenomena of the telegraph, 
to make it comprehensible even to the dullest mind. As 
further microscopic investigation detected the gray substance 
crowded with innumerable nerve-cells, the theory was en- 
larged by the additional point, that these nerve-cells were the 
real source of mental activity, or still more pointedly in the 
language of the materialistic school, that what we call mind 



THE SENSORY FACULTIES. 193 

consisted in the chemical and molecular action and develop- 
ment of these nerve-cells. 

How slim a chance this belief will stand in the future may 
easily be judged, if the latest discoveries of Max Schultze, men- 
tioned above, should prove to be correct. But independent of 
Schultze's discoveries, the belief has an unstable basis. The 
experiments of Flourens, always cited in proof of this theory, 
in reality deal it a disastrous, even fatal, blow. This eminent 
physiologist removed the cerebrum, slice by slice, from pigeons, 
and the results consequent upon the operation are quoted in 
support of the view that it is by the chemical and molecular 
action and development of the nerve-cells of the cerebrum, 
especially of its cortical layer, that mental activity is origi- 
nated ; but every anatomist knows that the cortical layer of 
the cerebrum is so thin that it would be removed with the 
first slice. This theory demands that with this removal there 
should be at least a proportionate decrease in the pigeon's 
mental faculties. Unfortunately, the issue does not bear out 
these expectations. The pigeon retains its faculties fully, until 
the last trace of the hemispheres is removed, and then — and 
only then — it at once sinks into utter stupidity. If, during this 
operation, a small portion of cerebral substance, which princi- 
pally consists of white matter, is left, intelligence retains its 
hold ; and thus it is proved physiologically, that psychical 
functions may, and really do, continue in spite of the loss of a 
considerable portion of the cerebrum and most of its gray 
matter, and that, therefore, the nerve-cells cannot be the real 
source of mental development. 

Beside this, the materialistic view encounters still other dif- 
ficulties. " Although," says Henle, " a specific difference of the 
nerve-fibres may be denied, if their specific faculties are con- 
sidered as reactions of the central parts from which they issue, 
the specific nature of their terminations cannot be doubted, as 
they react against external influences quite differently, and as 
especially the single sensory nerves show an exclusive demeanor 
toward the so-called adequate stimuli, light, sound, flavors, 
etc. Now, how is the ' conduction ' of these adequate stimuli 
through the sensory nerves into the brain to be understood ? 



194 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

It cannot be taken as a propagation of the vibrations of light 
and sound. The physical nature of the nerves forbids us to 
accept such a suggestion. Beside, it is disproved by the fact 
that these nerves, between their terminations and the brain, 
can be excited only by general stimuli (pressure, electricity, 
and the like), and not by their adequate stimuli, as is conclu- 
sively shown by Marriotte's experiment, which proves the 
retina blind at the spot where the optic nerve enters. The 
vibrations, therefore, w r hich the external stimuli cause in the 
terminal apparatus must be transmitted to the nerve-fibres 
through which they pass, as an inconceivable quality, in order 
to be again transformed in the central termination of the 
nerve, where they are finally received as sensations. The 
theory is certainly not, as I have already remarked on 
former occasions, characterized by any degree of simplicity. 
The complication grows still greater by its application to 
those senses by means of which we receive impressions of the 
extension, form and size of things. Is it conceivable that the 
nerve-fibres of touch and sight, after all the inosculations and 
decussations of their branches and bundles, should place them- 
selves in the brain in exactly the order in which they issue 
from the terminal apparatus ? And if this were not the case, 
or if, as it often happens by the transplantation of a piece 
of skin, the position of the internal terminations become 
changed, what a confusion would it cause in the correspond- 
ence of the mind with the nerves of touch ! About the same 
as would ensue if two telegraph wires were cut, and when 
repaired their ends were united in wrong directions. We 
escape all these difficulties if we place the nervous processes 
which manifest themselves in sensation and motion in the 
nerve-fibres instead of the gray substance, and thus admit that 
the sensorial perceptions take place within the sensory organs 
themselves. The connection between the sensory organs and 
the brain remains, nevertheless, an indispensable condition. 
. . . But if usage constrains us to consider the external 
stimuli to pass through the nerves into the brain, we have an 
equal right to conceive the nerves as the avenues through 
which the psychical agency transmits itself outward." (Henle, 
Nervenlehre, p. 13, 1871.) 



THE SENSORY FACULTIES. 195 

To this I shall add the following passage from Dubois-Rey- 
mond : " The minutest knowledge of the brain, the highest 
which we can obtain of it, reveals nothing in it but matter 
in motion. By no imaginable device in the arrangement and 
motion of material particles, however, can a bridge be made 
into the domain of consciousness. Motion can produce only 
motion, or be transformed back to potential energy. Potential 
energy can produce only motion, can sustain static equi- 
librium, can exercise pressure or traction. The sum of the 
energy remains in all these processes ever the same. More 
than that which is conditioned by this law cannot take place 
in the corporeal world, and not less either; the mechanical 
cause is spent entirely in the mechanical effect. The mental 
processes, which are accompanied by certain material pro- 
cesses in the brain, fail, therefore, to have a sufficient cause for 
our understanding. They stand outside of the causal nexus, 
and are, therefore, incomprehensible as much as a mobile per- 
petuum would be. It appears to a superficial observation as 
though certain mental processes and capabilities, as for in- 
stance memory, the flow and association of mental modifica- 
tions, dispositions, habits, etc., might be understood by the 
knowledge of material processes within the brain ; but the 
least reflection shows that this is a delusion. We would be- 
come informed only of certain internal conditions of mental 
phenomena, much like those external conditions which are 
required for sensorial impressions ; but we never would draw 
any knowledge of the originating of the mental phenomena by 
these conditions. What is the conceivable connection between 
certain motions of certain atoms in my brain and the original, 
indefinable, yet undeniable facts, that 'I feel pain or pleasure; 
that I taste something sweet, or smell the fragrance of a rose, 
or hear the sound of an organ, or see a red object,' and the 
consequent conclusion and immediate certainty, that ' I exist'? 
It is absolutely and forever incomprehensible, why it should 
not be a matter of entire indifference how a given number of 
atoms of carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen, etc., are situate 
and move, or how they have been situated and been moving, 
or how they shall be situate and move in the future. In no 



196 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

way is it conceivable, how consciousness could originate by 
their co-operation." (Einil Dubois-Reymond, Ueber die Grenzen 
des Natiirerkennens. Leipzig, 1872.) 

From all this it appears that the prevailing materialistic 
belief cannot boast of an unshaken foundation. Its mainstay, 
that the ganglionic cells of the gray matter are the receptacles 
and laboratory for external stimuli, has been made very 
problematic by the latest microscopical investigations of Max 
Schultze; that the gray substance of the brain is the real 
source of mental action, has been conclusively disproved by 
the physiological experiments of Flourens ; that this theory 
does not simplify, but complicates difficulties that exist in 
regard to the explanation of psychical developments, has been 
shown by Henle ; and that it is inconceivable how material 
processe.3 can ever produce conscious, psychical phenomena, 
even of the lowest order, has been demonstrated by Dubois- 
Reymond. 

For these reasons we shall maintain that the sensorial 
activity is dependent upon a psychic force, differing in its 
nature from the gray matter, its cells and its finest nerve- 
fibrils, as much as the external elements differ in their nature 
from the terminal ends of the sensory nerves. It is not with- 
out significance that Max Schultze finds the nerves dividing 
into innumerable fibrils at either end — at the point where 
they so long have been supposed to originate, and at the point 
where they terminate toward the external world. Strictly 
speaking, then, there is neither an origin nor a termination of 
the nerves. They exist as an indispensable apparatus, as a 
medium between the realms of psychic and corporeal forces, 
communicating with each other by innumerable attachments 
and at innumerable points. In consequence of this communi- 
cation by means of the nervous system, the corporeal forces or 
external stimuli come within reach of the psychic forces and 
are assimilated by them, that is, are converted into their kind. 
This at once explains the sensorial function of the mind, and 
suggests at the same time the idea that there must be some 
kind of affiliation between psychic and corporeal forces with- 
out wilich assimilation would be impossible. Of what it con- 



THE RAPIDITY OF SENSORIAL ACTION. 197 

sists we do not know ; but to deny that it may, even must 
exist, would be pretending an exactness of knowledge that, so 
far as the discussion has gone, we do not possess. 

On the other hand, the psychic forces must not be conceived 
as undefined, shadowy, nondescript; as ideal existences which 
float about somewhere and yet nowhere, and can never be laid 
hold of. They are indeed well-defined, concrete forces, which 
every soul brings into this world, and in their own way are as 
distinct and specific as the organs of which the body is com- 
posed. They do not develop themselves as products of bodily 
organization, but they are given entities ; they are born with 
the body, and they are invariably the same in all human 
beings. As the body consists of its various organs, tissues, 
vessels, etc., so this system of psychic forces consists of what we 
may well call primitive or sensory forces of the mind, the sum 
and substance of the soul, so far as we can judge of the soul 
from its manifestations by subjective as well as objective ob- 
servations. 

81. The Rapidity of Sensorial Action. 

Notwithstanding the great similarity between some of the 
phenomena produced by the application of electricity and those 
attending the physiological action of nerves, the idea that the 
nerve-cells are the generators of an electric current has long 
been abandoned. The experiments of Prevost, Dumas, Mat- 
teuci, Longet and others, failed to detect the slightest evidence 
of an electric current with the most delicate galvanometer that 
could be constructed, so that what physiologists call nerve- 
force must be admitted to be a force sui generis. But a method 
of experimenting widely different has corroborated this nega- 
tive result. Helmholtz and others instituted numerous ex- 
periments to show the velocity with which sensations are per- 
ceived, or will-efforts executed, and even to calculate the time 
which elapses between a sensation and its consequent will- 
effort. The result of these investigations, carried on by very 
ingenious methods and instruments, is about this : The 
velocity varies in different individuals, and under varying 



198 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

external conditions ; that it lies between 24 and 94 metres in 
a second ; that in most cases, however, it amounts to about 30 
metres in a second, while electricity, according to Wheatstone, 
travels 464 millions of metres, light 313 millions of metres, 
and sound 332 metres (according to Wertheim) in a second. 
(Preyer, Ueber Empfindungen, Sammlung wissenschaftlicher Vor- 
tra'ge, edited by Virchow and Holtzendorff, p. 16. Compare 
also Austin's Nervous System; p. 98 et seq.) This proves by 
another way the non-identity of nerve-force with electricity, 
and also the correctness of Henle's view (80) that the con- 
duction of the adequate stimuli through the sensory nerves 
cannot be a propagation of the vibrations of light and sound, 
etc.. itself; that, on the contrary, the primitive forces have a 
rapidity exclusively their own, with which they seize and 
assimilate external stimuli, and produce all further mental 
developments dependent on them. These various experiments 
proceed a step further, and show that this velocity even differs 
in the different senses. It appears that a tactual stimulus 
to the forehead is more quickly perceived than a luminous 
stimulus by the eye, and this in turn more quickly than a 
sound, (v. Wittich, Sammlung wissenschaftlicher Vortrage, ed- 
ited by Virchow and v. Holtzendorff, p. 28.) Professor Donders, 
on the contrary, shows that the time occupied in the trans- 
mission of a sensation through the eye to the brain, the forma- 
tion of a judgment, and the transmission of a volition from the 
brain to the hand is .15 of a second ; but when the ear is the 
receiving organ, the time required is only .09 of a second. 
(Boston Journal of Chemistry, Jan. 1874, p. 84.) However this 
may be, there alw T ays will be found differences in the rapidity 
of sensorial action in different individuals, and we have already 
considered this subject in 14, where, upon a purely psycho- 
logical basis, we arrived at nearly the same results. 

82. The Acuteness or Sensitiveness of the Primitive 

Forces. 

In respect to acuteness of the primitive forces there exist, also, 
differences in different persons. The experiments made to 



THE RAPIDITY OP SENSORIAL ACTION. 199 

elucidate how minute a stimulus will perceptibly affect the 
sensory nerves, do not cover the whole ground. What has 
been ascertained is this : If a certain weight is laid upon the 
hand, an additional weight is not perceived unless it amounts 
to at least the one-thirtieth part of the original weight. 
For instance, if the original object weigh twenty-nine ounces, 
it requires the addition of a full ounce before any difference is 
noticed by the hand of the blindfolded experimenter ; if the 
original weight is twenty-nine grains, one grain more will be 
perceived as an addition. This led to the discovery of the law 
(by E. H. Weber) that no matter what the original weight 
might be, an increment to be perceived is in an invariable 
proportion — about the thirtieth part of the original weight. 
This, however, throws no light upon the ulterior point, how 
small a weight can be perceived. 

In regard to temperature, it has been ascertained that, in order 
to be perceptible, a variation, even under the most favorable 
conditions, must measure from one-sixth to one-tenth of a 
degree, Reaumur. A difference of temperature less than one- 
tenth of a degree is not perceptible. 

A difference in the degree of light is perceived if it varies by 
a hundredth part of its original intensity. Eyes of unusual 
sensitiveness perceive a change of the yj ¥ d, and even the x^th, 
part in the intensity of the original stimulus. In short, the 
sensitiveness varies in different persons. The same is true of 
hearing. A fine ear distinguishes two notes which in regard 
to their vibrations lie as near as 1200 and 1201 — a fineness of 
difference entirely imperceptible to a duller ear. (Compare 
W. Preyer, Sammlung wissenschaftlicher Vortrdge, edited by 
Virchow and v. Holtzendorff, p. 28 et seq.) These attempts to 
reduce to numbers the degrees of acuteness possessed by the 
sensorial faculties, though imperfect, approximate the truth 
nearly enough to be received by us. They confirm what 
psychological observations have long before shown to be a 
positive fact, that the quality of acuteness differs in degree, not 
only in different persons, but also in the different primary 
faculties of the same person. (5.) 



200 physiological psychology. 

83. The Retentive Power of the Sensorial Forces. 

The following passages we find in Henry Maudsley's 
Physiology and Pathology of the Mind, pp. 15-16: "Everything 
which has existed with any completeness in consciousness 
is preserved, after its disappearance therefrom, in the mind 
or brain, and may reappear in consciousness at some future 
time. That which persists or is retained, has been differently 
described as a residuum, or relic, or trace, or vestige; or, again, 
as potential, or latent, or dormant idea; and it is on the existence 
of such residua that memory depends." " Consciousness is not 
able to give any account of the manner in which these various 
residua are perpetuated, and how they exist latent in the 
mind ; but a fever, a poison in the blood, or a dream, may at 
any moment recall ideas, feelings and activities which seemed 
forever vanished. The lunatic sometimes reverts, in his 
ravings, to scenes and events, of which, when in his sound 
senses, he has no memory ; the fever-stricken patient may pour 
out passages in a language which he understands not, but 
which he has accidentally heard ; a dream of being at school 
again brings back with painful vividness the school feelings; 
and before him who is drowning, every event of his life seems 
to flash in one moment of strange and vivid consciousness." 
Page 17: " So far from the mind being always active, it is the 
fact that at each moment the greater part of the mind is not 
only unconscious but inactive. Mental power exists in 
statical equilibrium as well as in manifested energy; and the 
utmost tension of a particular mental activity may not avail to 
call forth from their secret repository the dormant energies of 
latent residua, even when most urgently needed ; no man can 
call to mind at any moment the thousandth part of his knowl- 
edge. How utterly helpless is consciousness to give any account 
of the statical condition of mind! Bat as statical mind is in 
reality the statical condition of the organic element which 
ministers to its manifestations, it is plain that if we ever are to 
know anything of the inactive mind, it is to the progress of physi- 
ology that we must look for information." 

In these passages we do not find anything new as regards the 



THE RETENTIVE POWER OF THE SENSORIAL FORCES. 201 

retentive power of the sensorial faculties ; they confirm what 
psychological observations have long since disclosed, and from 
a standpoint which assumes that any information about statical 
mind (vestiges) can be expected only from the further develop- 
ment of physiology. 

Without going into the discussion, how far nervous structure 
participates in the development and execution of mental pro- 
cesses (that it is a necessary link between the external stimuli 
and the primitive faculties of the mind has been admitted be- 
fore, and is proven by the fact that conscious developments 
do not take place until nervous structure makes its appearance) 
(71), it will nevertheless be well to refer again to the utter im- 
possibility of even explaining the transmutation of material 
processes into psychical phenomena (80). How, therefore, 
physiology will ever become capable of unravelling inactive 
mind, is difficult to comprehend. It is asserted " that every 
phenomenon of mind is the result, as manifested energy, of 
some change, molecular, chemical or vital, in the nervous ele- 
ments of the brain. Chemical analysis of the so-called ex- 
tractives of nerve testifies to definite change or a 'waste,' 
through functional activity ; for there are found, as products 
of retrograde metamorphosis, lactic acid, kreatin, uric acid, 
probably also hypoxanthin, and, respecting the fatty acids, 
formic and acetic acids. These products are very like those 
which are found in muscle after functional activity. In the 
performance of an idea, as in the performance of a movement, 
there is a retrograde metamorphosis of organic elements. The 
display of energy is at the cost of the highly organized mat- 
ter, which undergoes degeneration, or passes from a higher 
to a lower grade of being ; and the retrograde products 
are, so far as is at present known, very nearly the same. 
While the contents of nerves, again, are neutral during rest in 
the living state, they become acid after death, and after great 
activity during life. The same is the case also with regard to 
muscle. Furthermore, the products of the metamorphosis of 
nerve-elements, after prolonged mental exercise, are recognized 
by an increase of phosphates in the urine ; while it is only by sup- 
posing an idea to be accompanied by a correlative change in 
14 



202 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

the nerve-cells that we can explain the exhaustion following 
excessive mental work, and the breaking down of the brain in 
extreme cases. These things being so, in a physiological sense, 
what is it we designate the mind? Not the material products 
of cerebral activity, but the marvelous energy which cannot be 
grasped and handled." (Maudsley, 1, p. 39.) 

This is an infinitely more advanced conception of mind than 
the coarse view of Cabanis and Vogt, according to w r hom the 
brain secretes thought as the liver secretes bile. In fact, the 
quoted passage has been written in refutation of this view. 
And, while it endeavors to come nearer to a just appreciation 
of mind, as we view it, it is still only an hypothesis that will 
scarcely stand before a scrutinizing examination into all the 
physiological and psychological facts. In the first place it is 
taken for granted that the nerve-cells are the receptacles and 
laboratory of sensorial activities. This is by no means physi- 
ologically proved, and by the latest researches of Max Schultze 
made even quite problematic (80). Secondly, it asserts that 
every phenomenon of the mind is the result of some change in 
the nervous elements of the brain. With the same right we 
may assert that the correlative changes in the material sub- 
stratum are the result of mental activity. We quite often see 
will-power hold in abeyance, not only the special workings of 
the mind, but also the entire bodily frame. This, however, 
will always remain a bone of contention, because " correlative 
changes in the material substratum " depend, as the term im- 
plies, upon reciprocity, and to determine in each single case 
w T hich is cause and which effect may not always be possible. 
We shall, how T ever, refer to this subject when treating of the 
relation between mind and body. 

The once cherished conjecture that mental activity is based 
upon the consumption of phosphorus in the brain, " because 
phosphates appear in the urine in consequence of a retrograde 
metamorphosis of nerve-substance," must also be consigned to 
the "dreams of science" as Virchow says. (Cellular Pathology, 
1871, p. 278.) Maudsley at last recognizes the mind to be "not 
the material products of cerebral activity, but the marvelous 
energy which cannot be grasped or handled." A marvelous 






THE RETENTIVE POWER OF THE SENSORIAL FORCES. 203 

energy of what? Of the brain. As the working of a steam- 
engine represents its " manifested energy," so " thought repre- 
sents the energy of nerve-cell." At first sight this reasoning 
appears very plausible indeed, to some minds even convincing. 
Its only fault is, that it confounds condition with cause. The 
working, that is, the functional manifestations, of an engine is 
not at all its- manifest energy ; it is the energy of a something 
altogether different from the engine, namely, the energy of 
steam, which, however, must find an appropriate mechanism 
to manifest itself — its energy. The engine is, therefore, not the 
cause, but only the condition of its so-called " manifested energy 
or function." The brain or the problematic virtue of the nerve- 
cells is only the condition of mental phenomena, or its marvel- 
ous energy, by and through which a something altogether 
different from the brain, namely the soul, manifests itself as 
the cause of all this marvelous energy. We have here an ex- 
ample of the "powerful" and now fashionable "tendency in 
the human mind to make the reality conformable to the idea, 
a tendency which has been at the 'bottom' of so many views 
advanced in physiological psychology to convert marvelous 
energies into objective entities, and allow them to tyrannize 
over the understanding." Here applies fully what Goethe says: 

" Daran erkenn' ich den gelehrten Herrn ! 
Was ihr nicht tastet, stent euch meilenfern ; 
Was ihr nicht fasst, das fehlt euch ganz und gar ; 
Was ihr nicht rechnet, glaubt ihr sei nicht wahr ; 
Was ihr nicht wiigt, hat fur euch kein Gewicht ; 
Was ihr nicht miinzt, das, meint ihr, gelte nicht." 

Faust, Zweiter Theil, erster Act. 

" By that I know the learned lord you are ! 
What you don't touch, is lying leagues afar; 
What you don't grasp, is wholly lost to you; 
What you don't reckon, think you, can't be true ; 
What you don't weigh, it has no weight, alas ! 
What you don't coin, you're sure it will not pass." 

Bayard Taylor's Translation of Goethe's Faust, Part II, p. 18. 

But this is not all. The " marvelous energy " does not 
advance us one step in discriminating the different sensory 



204 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

forces in regard to their degree of retentive power, a point 
very obvious to the observation of the psychologist (6, 7). 
Where lias physiology found a difference in the nerves or 
nerve-cells to warrant the acceptation of an equal difference 
in their energy? In the course of centuries, perhaps, it may. 
In the meantime, however, we must rest satisfied with what 
psychology proves — that the primitive forces gradate in their 
retentive power from the highest to the lowest senses (8), and 
that in this gradation is founded, not only the clearer knowl- 
edge we gain from the outer world by means of the higher 
senses, but also the moral norm which places man at the sum- 
mit of the mundane creation (58). 

84. Conscious Development. 

In 70 and 71 we have ascribed to the nervous structure a 
potentiality for conscious development. This proposition is 
denied by no one. The question is, is nervous structure the 
cause or the condition of such development ? According to the 
conclusions we have arrived at in the last chapter, we contend 
that it is the conditio sine qua non, but not the cause. The 
humblest animal has its soul as well as has man. But the 
difference consists in the varied degrees of retentive power or 
energy with which the sensorial forces of the various classes of 
living beings are capable of holding fast and being lastingly 
molded by external stimuli. 

In glancing over the variously shaded manifestations of 
intelligence as displayed by the different classes of animals, 
we find in animals lower than the class of articulates only 
very faint signs of conscious development. A much greater 
amount of intelligence is displayed by several tribes of the 
articulate class. I mention merely the well-known industry 
and skill of the bees ; the orderly conduct of the ants in their 
household affairs ; the cunning with which the spider selects 
a fit place for its hunting-ground, and the clever adaptation 
of its web to these localities. Compared with them it is doubt- 
ful whether the lowest vertebrate class, the fishes, can be at- 
tributed with a greater or even an equal amount of intelli- 



CONSCIOUS DEVELOPMENT. 205 

gence ; for that they can be made to assemble for their meals 
by the ringing of a bell is, perhaps, no sign of greater intelli- 
gence than the bee exhibits in learning to know its keeper; or 
than the ant showed that hastily turned back, on her accus- 
tomed way to the sugar-bowl, when she found several of her 
sisters killed, and, meeting others, seemed from the sequel to 
converse with them, for presently the whole crowd hastily dis- 
appeared to return no more. Not much greater than that of 
the fishes appears the intelligence of reptiles. Birds show a 
decided progress in intelligence, and still more plainly does in- 
telligence manifest itself in some tribes of the mammalia. Thus 
conscious development varies greatly in the different classes of 
the animal kingdom, and not only is this apparent between 
whole classes of animals, but also between single individuals of 
the same tribe. Some dogs, for example, are much more docile 
than others. " This is easily explained," says the physiologist, 
" by the greater or less amount and perfection of the cerebral 
structure with which these different animals are severally en- 
dowed." It is but reasonable to expect that wherever we find 
a greater amount of intelligence, we should also find more per- 
fect conditions for the display of this intelligence. But is the 
varied structure of cerebral development really an adequate 
explanation of the varied intelligence we find in the different 
classes of animals and in different individuals of the same 
species? It seems not ; for there is no trace in all the articu- 
lates of anything that can be fairly considered homologous 
either with the cerebrum or with the cerebellum of the verte- 
brates; and yet who can deny conscious development to 
spiders, ants, bees, and other insects? Even the amphioxus 
and the cyclostome fishes in general exist without any trace of 
cerebrum or cerebellum (71), and yet conscious development, 
if ever so faint, they surely possess. We have here specimens 
of animal organization which, in their natural health}' - state, 
without the mutilating interference of physiologists, prove 
that conscious development does in reality exist (1), not only 
without the presence of anything like a brain, but (2)« with 
the further want even of a proper medulla spinalis. With 
what right, then, can the brain be considered as the only con- 



206 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

dition, much less as the sole cause of conscious development? 
Here, as elsewhere, preconceived ideas have been allowed " to 
tyrannize over the understanding." Deeper than the brain, 
deeper than the medulla spinalis, deeper than the ganglionic 
cells in either the brain, the medulla spinalis, or any other of 
the nerve ganglions, lie the inborn psychic forces of all and 
every living being; and in accordance with their native energy 
or capability of being more or less lastingly molded by exter- 
nal stimuli, they develop consciousness in a higher or lower 
degree. Furthermore, as this energy rises in the ascending 
scale of animal creation, the conditions necessary for a corres- 
ponding display of these faculties become more and more 
elaborate, complex, and perfect; and in this mediatorial quality 
of nervous structure consists its potentiality for conscious de- 
velopment, its office as a medium between psychic forces and 
external stimuli. The faint energy of the psychic forces in 
retaining and assimilating external stimuli, as manifested by 
the lowest classes of animal life, requires but a simple structure 
of nerve-element. As the psychic forces in the ascending scale 
of animal life attain to greater and greater retentive power, 
and in consequence to greater complexity of conscious devel- 
opment, the means for the display of such development must 
correspondingly increase in complexity. It is, therefore, not 
because the higher animals have a medulla spinalis and a 
brain that they are capable of a more perfect development of 
consciousness, but because they are endowed with more ener- 
getic forces (which necessitate a more complex means for their 
activity) than the lower animals. This reversion of received 
physiological ideas is the necessary consequence of our inves- 
tigations, which have proved that the brain is not the cause 
but only the condition of conscious development. We shall, 
however, further strengthen this view by subsequent investi- 
gations. t 

85. Various Degrees of Clearness in Conscious 
Development, 

A mere reference to what has been detailed in 8 will suffice 
to prove that mental modifications in man differ greatly in 



DEGREES OF CLEARNESS IN CONSCIOUS DEVELOPMENT. 207 

clearness, accordingly as they are products of the higher or of 
the lower senses. Everybody knows that what he has seen, 
heard and touched, is retained more lastingly than that which 
he has smelled, tasted or felt (embracing in the latter term 
the so-called general feeling and sensations originating in the 
sympathetic system). There is a marked indisputable grada- 
tion in the conscious development of these several sensorial 
forces as to the clearness of their products, from the sense of 
sight down to the vital senses. All science and all clear, minute 
differential knowledge owe their origin and growth to the 
higher senses. We do not even approximately attain this 
clearness and discrimination by means of the lower senses. 
Why is this? Does physiology furnish any explanation? 
It might, indeed, refer to the greater perfection of the organs 
which minister to the higher senses. But is this not the same 
preconceived idea which confounds condition and cause? Is 
it not attributing to the nerve-cell an office which is by no 
means proved and is more than problematical ? The question 
recurs : What is the cause of these differences ? The answer, 
and as we believe, the only answer, must be gathered from the 
foregoing researches. He who has followed them intelligently 
must see that the differences of conscious development result 
from the different degrees of retentive power with which the 
sensory forces of the mind are severally endowed. By this 
difference of the sensory forces, in respect to retentive energy, 
their consequent products or vestiges are stamped with a cor- 
responding difference. If the forces are of such a nature as to 
be capable of maintaining the development which has been 
effected by external stimuli, the product or vestige (which, as 
we have seen in 6, is the objective development of these 
primitive forces) will be distinct and lasting ; if, however, the 
nature of the primitive forces is not capable of such lasting 
development, the product or vestige produced by the influence 
of external stimuli will be correspondingly w T eak and evanescent. 
Now, as according to the law of attraction of like to like (9), the 
single vestiges by repetition of similar impressions gradually 
grow to be aggregates, it is plain that the aggregates must 
share the character of their components. An aggregate of 



208 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

definite and lasting vestiges will, therefore, be definite and last- 
ing, a perfeet and clear mental modification, while an aggregate 
of ever so many evanescent single vestiges will never attain 
to any clearness as a conscious development. This assertion 
agrees entirely with the facts before us. Man attains to clear 
ideas of the world around him by his higher senses only, and 
these ideas are again sublimated by the same law of attraction 
of like to like into still higher ideas (15, 16), and these are 
combined into new forms of conscious development, as in the 
acts of judging and reasoning (18, 20), all of which is possible 
and explicable only on the ground of the greater capability of 
these forces to be lastingly modified by the corresponding im- 
pressions of the outer world. In the lower senses this perfec- 
tion of conscious development lessens more and more, until, in 
the vital senses, it becomes quite faint, shadowy, indefinite. 
This is true of the animal kingdom. The higher animals un- 
doubtedly attain a conscious development analogous to that of 
of man. Yet, however striking in single instances this develop- 
ment may appear, it never reaches the depth and fulness of 
man's conscious growth. We often attribute to animals an 
intelligence not their due in amount or in kind. We see in- 
telligence where we least expect it, and enthusiastically con- 
found the mental glintings of animals with our broader mental 
light. 

But we do not intend to deny a capability in animals for 
developing a consciousness analogous to that of man. In them 
the same laws prevail as in man. Man has no innate intellect, 
taking the word in the sense of the old psychologists, as a 
power to form ideas, judgments, and syllogisms (17, 20, 21), 
and in the animal nothing of the kind exists. But as man 
reaches his highest possibilities by the innate energy of his 
higher senses, the animal may attain to an intelligence 
which corresponds to the energy of its sensory forces. It 
appears that this retentive power of the sensory forces in ani- 
mals is not distributed altogether, as it is in man, from sight 
down to the lowest senses. In dogs, for instance, and probably 
in some other animals, the most energetic sense seems to be 
the sense of smell, w T hile the spider and bee, and probably many 



DEGREES OF CLEARNESS IN CONSCIOUS DEVELOPMENT. 209 

other insects, rely most upon their sense of touch. However 
this may be, this much is certain, that none of the animals 
exhibit a conscious development, which, broadly considered, 
can be compared with that of a normal human being. The 
difference lies in the inborn energy of the sensory forces, and 
although this difference is only one of degree, the cumulative 
effects of its products make it a difference of kind. To say 
that a dog or any other clever animal, if it only could speak, 
would show itself as intelligent as many a man, is a con- 
fused way of reasoning. If the dog could speak, I mean 
humanly, it would cease to be a dog ; but just because it never 
attains to anything higher than a dog's language, its mental 
life is specifically different from that of a human being. It is 
not language that makes man a man, but it is man, in virtue 
of his higher mental nature, who makes language ; and so the 
language of the animal corresponds precisely to the standard 
of its mental development. 

These higher developments of consciousness, with all their 
countless combinations, associations and activities, are believed 
to be " by all those who have most studied the physiology of 
the brain, and are best entitled to speak on the matter, the 
highest display of organic development in the nerve-cells of 
the gray cortical layers of the hemispheres." (Maudsley, p. 106.) 
I shall not repeat here the reasons why this belief is entirely 
fallacious (compare 80 and others), notwithstanding the fact 
that it is said to be the belief of all those w T ho have most 
studied physiology. Even admitting the correctness of this 
view, "the organic processes of mental development which 
take place in the minute cells of the cortical layers, are so ex- 
quisitely delicate, that they are certainly, so far as our present 
means of investigations reach, quite impenetrable to the 
senses." (Maudsley, 107.) How then can physiology be con- 
sidered a sufficient guide, much less the only guide to unravel 
mental life? Against such one-sided views Schopenhauer 
utters the following words, which, though cutting, should 
nevertheless be taken to heart : " There are persons who thrust 
themselves into the foreground as reformers of the world, who 
have learned nothing on earth but their chemistry, or physics, 



210 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

or mineralogy, or zoology, or physiology; and they eke this 
out by other fragments of knowledge, namely, what has stuck 
to them from their schoolboy teaching of the catechism ; and 
if then these two constituents of their learning do not appear 
to fit exactly, they at once turn out to be scoffers at religion, 
and next, absurd and shallow materialists. That there has 
existed a Plato and Aristoteles, a Locke and Kant, they have 
heard perhaps in school ; but they do not deem such men 
worthy of closer examination, as they never used crucible, nor 
retort, nor even stuffed monkeys. . . . These persons we must 
bluntly call ignorami, w T ho have yet to learn a great deal 
before they can be allowed to participate in the discussion." — 
("Da werfen sich Leute zu Welterleuchtern auf, die ihre 
Chemie, oder Physik, oder Mineralogie, oder Zoologie, oder 
Physiologie, sonst aber auf der Welt nichts gelernt haben, 
bringen an diese ihre einzige anderweitige Kenntniss, namlich 
was ihnen von den Lehren des Katechismus noch aus den 
Schuljahren anklebt, und wenn ihnen nun diese beiden Stiicke 
nicht recht zu einander passen, werden sie sofort Religions- 
potter und demnachst abgeschmackte, seichte Materialisten. 
Dass es einen Plato und Aristoteles, einen Locke und Kant, 
gegeben habe, haben sie vielleicht einmal auf der Schule ge- 
hort, jedoch diese Leute, da sie weder Tiegel noch Retorte 
handhabten, noch Affen ausstopften, keiner nahern Bekannt- 
schaft werth gehalten. . . . Ihnen gehort die unumwundene 
Belehrung, dass sie Ignoranten sind, die noch vieles zu lernen 
haben, ehe sie mitreden konnen.") 

We may ask, too, how is this- physiological view capable of 
explaining the countless associations of ideas ? 

" The anatomical connection of a nerve-cell in the cerebral 
ganglia does, of a necessity, limit the direction and extent of 
its action upon other cells; for it may be deemed tolerably 
certain that as the conduction in nerve-fibres demonstrably 
does not pass from one to another, except by continuity of 
tissue, so the activity of one cell cannot be communicated to 
another, except along an anastomosing process." (Maudsley, 
p. 121). This is true, still the psychomotor cells are not pre- 
established, they are developed by age, through functional 



THE EFFERENT NERVES. 211 

exercise, as Charcot shows in his lectures on localization of 
diseases of the brain, p. 30. Is this explanation adequate to 
our every-day life experience ? Do we not every minute form 
new combinations of old and new ideas? Have these com- 
binations, so shifting and complex that no one can imagine 
the strangeness of their next grouping, been preformed by certain 
anastomosing processes between certain nerve-cells? Does not 
such a materialistic and inadequate explanation prove again 
the strong tendency of the human mind to make the reality 
conformable to preconceived ideas? As physiological anatomy 
is not capable of explaining even the lowest forms of con- 
scious development, we need not wonder that its attempts to 
explain the higher forms must necessarily prove abortive. 

86. The Efferent Nerves. 

These receive their name from the physiological observation 
that they convey stimuli from the different centres to the 
periphery. They are divided into such as terminate in striated 
muscles, furnishing a mediuin'for the action of the voluntary 
muscles, into such as terminate in non-striated muscles, fur- 
nishing a medium for the action of the involuntary muscular 
tissue, and into such as terminate in the different glands, fur- 
nishing a medium for glandular action. 

Those that furnish a medium for the action of the voluntary 
muscles " terminate underneath the sarcolemma by a coales- 
cence of the sheath of Schwann with the sarcolemma. The 
sheath of Schwann accompanies the axis cylinder to this point. 
The end of the axis-cylinder is always an expansion of a consid- 
erably enlarged surface, which in all cases is formed by a flat 
ramification. This terminal plate is sometimes similar to a 
membranous, at other times to a fibrinous, expansion. In 
most cases the plate rests upon a basis of nuclei and fine nucle- 
ated protoplasma ; in other cases these nervous plates exhibit 
so-called terminal nervous buds. In no case does the terminal 
end of the nerve penetrate into the interior of the contractile 
cylinders, and never does it embrace their entire periphery. 
Short muscular fibres are apt to receive but one nerve-fibril, 



212 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

while long ones receive several." (W. Kuhn, in Strieker, p. 
165, 1872.) 

The nerves that furnish a medium for the action of the in- 
voluntary muscular tissue, contain dark-bordered and pale 
fibres in varying numbers; they lie outside of the muscular 
structure (in its connective tissue) and form a plexus. From 
here finer fibres start in various directions to form a still finer 
network. At the points where they cross (Knotenpunkte) there 
are found corpuscles with distinct nuclei, which resemble nerve- 
cells. This fine network lies immediately upon or below the 
membranes of the muscles and surrounds the muscular fibres 
upon all sides. Although the finest nerve-fibrils appear to join 
the nucleoli of the corpuscles, these are still not to be consid- 
ered as the actual terminations, because in numerous cases 
other nerve-fibrils issue from these nucleoli to pass in opposite 
directions through the substance of the corpuscles toward and 
into the intra-muscular network. The nucleoli are, therefore, 
not the ends but only the crossing-places of the finest nerve- 
fibrils forming this network. , (J. Arnold, in Strieker, 1872, 
p. 143.) 

The nerves that furnish a medium for glandular action, 
according to Pfliiger, pierce the membrana propria and ramify 
in finer and finer fibrils around the epithelial cylinders, enter 
directly into a cylinder cell, or disperse themselves as a sub- 
epithelial network and dive into the glandular cells. Accord- 
ing to later researches, this same connection exists between the 
nerves and the liver-cells. (Pfliiger, in Strieker, 1872, p. 313.) 
Since even the most recen advances in microscopic physi- 
ology have not dispelled all doubts in regard to the termina- 
tion of these nerves (which Virchow collectively calls " work- 
ing nerves," Cellular Pathology, p. 294), how can we expect 
an assured and scientific precision in deciding upon their 
central beginnings? The chief conclusion we are warranted 
in drawing is that the nerves which are the media for volun- 
tary action arise from the brain and the anterior roots of the 
spine; while those which are the media of involuntary and 
glandular action take their origin in the sympathetic nervous 
system. The cells with which the motor nerves stand in con- 



THE WHITE SUBSTANCE. 213 

nection within the spinal column, are somewhat longer than 
those with which the sensitive nerves are connected. In other 
central parts, however, a similar distinction in size has not 
been found. Neither does the calibre of the different nerve- 
fibres furnish a criterion as to their several functions. 

87. The White Substance. 

The white substance of the brain and spinal marrow is 
principally composed of fibres or tubes, hence it is also called 
the fibrous substance. These fibres are continuations of the 
millions of nerve-fibres which arise in the gray substance. 

It has been a general usage to trace the nerves from their 
peripheral terminations upward toward their centres in the 
different groups of gray matter. As, however, it is more con- 
formable with our psychological view, we shall reverse this 
order and adopt the plan of Theodor Meynert, as developed in 
his treatise " Vom Gehirne der Saugethiere" in Strieker, 1872, 
p. 694 et seq.j in explaining cursorily the relation of the white 
substance to the different groups of gray matter. 

Considering, as we do, the gray matter as the inmost and 
highest vital organization, by means of which the mind 
stands in communion with the external world, we shall take 
it as the point from which the white substance issues. " The 
sensory nerves can then be likened to its feelers and the 
motory nerves to its fangs." These multitudinous nerves, 
emerging from the entire surface of the cortical gray, converge 
and constitute the corona radiata, in their downward course 
directed toward the central or cavity gray of the brain. Their 
further emergence (still converging) takes them through the 
foramen magnum, and thus to the central gray of the spinal 
marrow, from whence they again issue in the form of innum- 
erable peripheral nerves, diverging to their respective organs. 
This sweeping delineation, however, needs more special ex- 
planation. The white substance, after emerging from the cor- 
tical gray and forming the corona radiata, does not pass unin- 
terruptedly to the central or cavity gray of the brain and 
spinal marrow. The conglomerations of gray matter in the 



214 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

cerebral ganglia are its first destination, namely, the corpora 
quadrigemina, thalami optici and corpora striata. With this 
first link in the chain of the white substance projecting from 
the cortical gray, we must count also the corpus callosum, 
which, by its transverse fibres, connects the two hemispheres 
of the brain, and forms their great transverse commissure, and 
the longitudinal commissural fibres, which connect together dis- 
tant parts of the same hemisphere. In the intervening gan- 
glionic masses, or in the second group of gray matter, a second 
link in the projection of the white substance is developed, 
forming the crura cerebri, or the peduncles of the cerebrum, 
which proceed to the pons and medulla oblongata to constitute 
the peripheral white substance of the spinal cord, which finds 
its termination in the central or cavity gray of the medulla 
spinalis. The third link of this projection of white substance 
develops itself in the third group of gray matter. This group, 
the central or cavity gray, begins in the region of the third ven- 
tricle, surrounds the acquseductus, extends to the sinus rhom- 
boid eus, and in the lower half of the oblongata, and in the 
medulla spinalis, encircles the central canal. The fibrous sub- 
stance here projected constitutes all the nerves from the third 
pair of cranial nerves arising in the gray of the aquseductus 
Silvii down to the last and lowest nerves of the spinal mar- 
row. Thus it appears that the innumerable multitude of 
nerve-fibres in the cortical gray converge at first into several 
masses, which for the most part radiate respectively to the 
corpus striatum and the nucleus lenticularis, to the thalami 
optici and the corpora quadrigemina. In the second link these 
several masses become reduced to only two, the peduncle and 
tegumentum of the crus cerebri, which proceed respectively 
to the anterior and posterior portion of the pons and medulla 
oblongata to merge at last in the spinal cord, and find their 
termination in the central or cavity gray of the spinal cord. 
From here and from the cavity gray of the brain, as has been 
stated above, the last link of the projecting fibrous matter 
issues, diverging in the form of the peripheral nerves to be 
distributed over the entire body. For further particulars, 
especially in regard to the relation of the cerebellum to the 



GRAY AND WHITE SUBSTANCE OF THE SPINAL AXIS. 215 

cerebrum and the second link of projection, I -must refer to 
the original and elaborate treatise of Th. Meynert cited above. 

88. Connection between the Gray and White Sub- 
stance of the Spinal Axis. 

Although the spinal axis has been the subject of very 
numerous and elaborate anatomical as well as physiological 
investigations, the exact relation between its two constituents 
is not determined beyond all doubt. We shall continue to 
reverse the customary way of tracing the course of the nerve- 
fibres, and begin with the second link of projected fibrous 
substance which at last represents itself as the white substance 
of the spinal cord. The proportion of the white substance to 
the gray matter within is greatest in the cervical region, from 
whence it gradually decreases in quantity throughout the 
whole extent of the cord, until at the intumescentia lumbaris, 
and still more at the conus terminalis, it is reduced to a very 
thin coating of the irregularly shaped gray matter beneath. 
What has become of this multitude of fibres? Where did 
they gradually lose themselves ? 

The idea, formerly entertained, that the fibres of the nerve- 
roots ascend in the column which they enter, and that by this 
means the white substance gains by degrees in quantity from 
below upward, is not tenable ; for it is anatomically proved 
that, if not all, at least the great majority, of the root-fibres pass 
directly, either horizontally or obliquely, through the white 
substance into the gray matter without taking any part in the 
formation of the white columns. This is especially plain and 
easily demonstrated in the case of the anterior roots and an- 
terior columns. However, we ought not to say the root-fibres 
pass into the gray matter, as, in fact, they originate there and 
pass out of it through the white substance. For in holding 
this standpoint, that is, in considering the cavity gray as the 
third great nerve-centre which receives the second link of pro- 
jected white substance to form and mold it for final distribu- 
tion all over the body, we shall gain a much more lucid insight 
into the extremely complicated course which the nerve-fibres 
present within the gray and white substance of the spinal cord. 



216 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

In fairness, however, to the eminent physiologists whom I 
have quoted, it is but right to say that the following view as 
to the connection between the gray and white substance of the 
spine, is wholly my own, though it seems a logical result of 
their investigations. 

The white substance of the spinal cord, which anatomically 
has been divided into the two anterior, the two lateral, and the 
two posterior columns, enters the cavity gray in the following 
manner, namely : The different columns resolve gradually 
into primitive fibres, which they give off continually all the 
w T ay down to corresponding portions of the cavity gray within. 
Thus the anterior columns send off fibres to form the anterior 
white commissure, which is found throughout the extent of 
the spinal cord lying directly in front of the anterior gray 
commissure. Its formation is affected in this way : The 
fibres which emerge from the right anterior column curve 
toward the left, and taking a horizontal course, enter the 
anterior cornua of the left side, while the fibres which emerge 
from the left column curve in the opposite direction, and pass 
in the same manner toward the right anterior horn of gray 
matter. This causes a decussation of the fibres of the two 
anterior columns immediately in front of the gray commissure j 
which is known under the name of the anterior white com- 
missure. The correctness of this view is strengthened by the 
anatomical fact that the width of this commissure increases or 
decreases with the volume of the corresponding gray substance. 

The anterior portion of the lateral columns gives off fibres 
to the anterior cornua of the same side, while the fibres of the 
posterior portion of the lateral columns bend toward the cor- 
responding posterior cornua. A similar relation exists 
between the fibres of the posterior columns and the correspond- 
ing posterior cornua of the cavity gray, but this relation is not 
nearly so simple nor so easily demonstrable. 

The question, then, " What becomes of the multitude of ver- 
tical fibres which constitute the spinal cord? " is thus answered : 
Its compact mass gradually resolves into primitive fibres, and 
because these continually pass off to corresponding parts of 
the spinal gray, the gradual diminution of the white substance 



GRAY AND WHITE SUBSTANCE OF THE SPINAL AXIS. 217 

in quantity, as it passes from above downwards is the natural 
result. 

Our next inquiry relates to the course of fibres within the 
gray columns. These latter are invested by groups of numerous 
nerve-cells, larger ones in the anterior, smaller ones in the 
posterior cornua. These cells may, as has been mentioned 
before, be compared with stations in which numerous nerve- 
fibrils converge from different regions, and from which one 
passes in a horizontal direction to the anterior roots. This 
view is strengthened also by the anatomical fact that in the 
cervical and lumbar enlargement of the spinal cord, where we 
find an increase of root-fibres, there exists also a decidedly 
larger number of nerve-cells. 

Less clearly defined is the relation between the cells of the 
posterior cornua and the posterior roots. It is, however, not 
the place here to enter into a discussion regarding the various 
views of the different authors upon this subject. This much 
is certain, that some of the fibres pass horizontally backward 
through the substantia gelatinosa into the posterior columns 
and the posterior portion of the lateral columns, where they, as 
primitive fibres, enter into a corresponding posterior root - 
that others pass in various directions through the posterior 
cornua, enter the posterior columns, in which they run for a 
shorter or longer distance upward in order to join a root 
situate higher up, and that still others, pursuing originally 
the same course, after entering the posterior columns, turn 
downward to join a lower root. Beside these fibres there are 
others which likewise pursue a horizontal or nearly horizontal 
course. In this category belong the anterior and posterior 
gray commissures, which form links of connection, the first 
between the anterior (right and left) cornua, and the second 
between the posterior (right and left) cornua. Other fibres 
pass directly from the anterior through the posterior cornua 
and columns to corresponding posterior roots. There are also 
many fibres which pursue either an upward or downward 
course in the gray columns to form connective links between 
different portions of the spinal marrow (Henle, Nervenlehre, 
pp. 63-73). The several starting points, however, of these 
15 



218 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

various nerve-fibres have thus far not been ascertained. Ac- 
cording to Gerlach it appears that the first and finest nerve- 
fibrils form an exceedingly fine nervous plexus, from which 
some of them converge to corresponding cells, to be conveyed 
and distributed as axis-cylinders in various directions, while 
the destination of others is entirely unknown. 

89. Function of the Spinal Cord. — Reflex Action. 

A series of interesting phenomena has been termed by Pro- 
chaska, a Vienna physician, over a century ago (1778), reflex 
action. By this is understood that an impression made upon 
the general sensory nerves is conveyed to the spinal gray, 
where it is transformed into an excitant of corresponding 
motory nerves, by which again certain voluntary muscles are 
set into motion. In short, by means of the spinal gray a sen- 
sation is converted into a movement. Reflex action, then, 
physiologically speaking, requires afferent nerves, gray central 
substance, efferent nerves, and muscular tissue. The afferent 
nerves receive the external stimulus, the gray substance trans- 
forms and reflects it, and the efferent nerves carry it to the 
muscular tissue, which contracts and thus causes motion. 
Reflex action differs from voluntary action in that the ex- 
ternal excitation is immediately converted into muscular 
motion, while voluntary action originates from a central 
or will stimulus. But " reflex phenomena are by no means 
confined to the action of the spinal cord. The movements of 
the iris are reflex, and yet they take place in many instances 
without the intervention of the cord. The movements of 
respiration are reflex, and these are presided over by the 
medulla oblongata. Movements of the intestines and the 
involuntary muscles generally are reflex, and they involve the 
action of the sympathetic system of nerves. Impressions 
made upon the nerves of special sense, as those of smell, sight, 
hearing, etc., give rise to certain trains of thought. These 
involve the action of the brain ; still they are reflex. In this 
last example of reflex action it is sometimes difficult to con- 
nect the operations of the mind with external impressions as 



FUNCTION OF THE SPINAL CORD. — REFLEX ACTION. 219 

an exciting cause ; but it is evident, from a little reflection, 
that this is often the case. This fact is illustrated by opera- 
tions of the brain which take place, as it were, without con- 
sciousness, as in dreams. It has been clearly shown that a 
particular direction may be given to the thoughts during 
sleep by impressions made upon the sense of hearing. A 
person sleeping may be made to dream of certain things, as a 
consequence of hearing peculiar noises. Examples of this 
kind of mental reflex action are sufficiently numerous and 
well authenticated. (Compare Hammond, Sleep and its 
Derangements, Philadelphia, 1869, p. 127 et seq.). From the 
above considerations it is evident that the term reflex may be 
properly used in connection with many phenomena involving 
the action of the sympathetic system, and of the brain ; but it 
is generally understood as applying especially to involuntary 
movements, occurring without consciousness, as the result of 
impressions made upon the afferent nerves, and involving the 
independent action of the spinal cord. (Austin Flint's Nervous 
System, 1872, p. 299.) 

This explanation of reflex action implies that external im- 
pressions cause sensations which are unconscious. But are 
unconscious sensations not a contradictio in adjectof If we re- 
member what has been stated to be the difference between 
sensation and perception, and also what has been said in 
regard to the development of consciousness in 9 and 10, we 
shall find no difficulty in comprehending this term. 

Sensations are, in the sense of the new psychology, elemen- 
tary modifications (a development of single primitive forces 
by corresponding single external stimuli) in which the 
quality of consciousness yet exists in an embryonic form. Not 
until many similar acts have united into one homogeneous 
aggregate does the consequent mental modification rise into 
consciousness ; and in the lower senses, from want of retentive 
power, consciousness does not grow very marked and clear 
even by the repetition of similar impressions (16). An 
impression of external elements, if it does not excite similar 
vestiges previously obtained, which in virtue of their multitude 
and combination possess the quality of consciousness, may, 



220 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

therefore, properly be said to cause an unconscious sensation, 
that is, an elementary action of single external elements upon 
corresponding single primitive forces, which has not yet 
ripened into consciousness. Even Virchow, from his materi- 
alistic standpoint, recognizes unconscious sensations. 

In his lecture on the spinal marrow (Sammlung Wissenschaft- 
licher Vortrdge, edited by Virchow and Holtzendorff, V. Serie, 
Heft 120, p. 25) he says : " The leg of a paralytic which jerks 
when stung, without feeling the sting or being conscious of it, 
would undoubtedly remain perfectly quiet if there were no 
sensible nerves which carried the message of the sting to the 
spinal marrow, and if the spinal marrow did not pay attention 
to this message. The spinal marrow, then, acts in this case in 
place of the brain of a man with unbroken connection in his 
nervous system ; what in another case, perhaps, might have 
been produced by an act of the will, takes place here by virtue 
of the innate power of the spinal marrow. Shall this be 
called sensation? This term of course can easily be mis- 
understood, as we are accustomed to consider each sensation 
as a conscious act, and it needs first some explanation, even a 
certain mental training, in order to learn that there exist also 
perceptions which lie outside of the range of consciousness, 
and which, nevertheless, appear in all other respects like sen- 
sations. As the same movements are conveyed by sensible 
nerves and are distinguished from other conscious sensations 
by the fact that they are prevented from reaching the brain by 
mechanical obstacles and becoming conscious, it is, indeed, 
difficult to find another expression for them. Nay, it is even 
a necessity to preserve this expression, as there are also reflex 
phenomena in which the brain participates, and in which, 
therefore, really conscious sensations take place, while the 
movements resulting therefrom are forced and involuntary. 
A person who looks into a very bright light and shuts his eyes 
in consequence, makes reflex movements ; for with a normal 
sensitiveness of his eyes he is scarcely capable of preventing 
these movements of the eyelids, and yet it is a conscious sensa- 
tion upon which this forced and involuntary motion of his 
eyelids follows." We may, then, properly assume that even 



FUNCTION OF THE SPINAL CORD. — REFLEX ACTION. 221 

reflex actions in their simplest forms take place on the basis 
of psychic forces. The want of consciousness in these acts is 
attributable either to the low degree of retentive power pos- 
sessed by the respective primitive forces, or to the elementary 
nature of these acts, or, lastly, to the fact that the similar ves- 
tiges, previously obtained, are not excited into consciousness 
by the new impression (as, for instance, in cases of mechanical 
obstacles, or in cases where psychic causes intervene). We 
shall speak of this later. "We shall see this view reinforced by 
evidence explicit and telling, when we consider the more com- 
plex forms of reflex action. They are, as Virchow remarks, 
often so plainly marked as conformable to a purpose, that they 
appear to be acts of design. To this also belong in a certain 
respect all that has been collectively designated by the word 
instinct. 

We have also remarkable experiments of Pfliiger upon this 
point. " These experiments have been repeatedly confirmed, 
and there can be no doubt with regard to their accuracy. 
Pfliiger carefully removed from a frog the entire encephalon, 
leaving only the spinal cord. He then touched the surface of 
the thigh over the inner condyle with acetic acid, to the irrita- 
tion of which frogs are peculiarly sensitive. The animal 
thereupon rubbed the irritated surface with the foot of the 
same side, apparently appreciating the locality of the irritation, 
and endeavoring by a voluntary effort to remove it. The foot 
of this side was then amputated, and the irritation was re- 
newed in the same place. The animal made an ineffectual 
effort to reach the spot with the amputated member, and fail- 
ing in this after some general movements of the limbs, rubbed 
the spot with the foot of the opposite side." (Austin Flint's 
Nervous System, p. 305; Pfliiger, Die Sensorischen Funktionen des 
Ruckenmarkes der Wirbelihiere, Berlin, 1853, p. 124 et seq.) 

Considering these facts in an unprejudiced manner, it is cer- 
tainly a fruitless attempt to explain them mechanically, or to 
evade explanation altogether by simply calling them automatic. 
These experiments, repeatedly confirmed, prove clearly that 
an external stimulus is capable of causing not only simple 
reflex movements, but a whole train of actions conformable to 



222 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

a purpose, carried on designedly and persistently to its final 
realization. 

By the weight of these considerations Pfliiger found himself 
drawn to the conclusion that the spinal cord is endowed with 
a special consciousness of its own (Buckenmarksseele). This 
view, of course, found much opposition among those who cling 
to the hope that all mental phenomena will one day be ex- 
plained upon a purely materialistic basis. Although this 
conjecture is open to other objections than those urged w r ith 
this view, we must consider it as a very remarkable and sen- 
sible suggestion, especially since it originated in the soil of 
experimental physiology. Pfliiger goes on to strengthen his 
views by a series of experiments made upon persons while 
asleep, all of which tended to confirm more or less his previous 
observation made upon frogs. But there are also morbid states 
of the system which testify to the same effect. As such may 
be mentioned some forms of somnambulism. A case to the 
point is related by Hammond in his monograph, Sleep and its 
Derangements, p. 205, Philadelphia, 1869, which occurred under 
his own observation. 

A young lady, who had lost her mother, became affected 
with symptoms resembling those met with in chorea. These 
were succeeded by attempts to get out of bed during her sleep, 
and to walk about the house. In this state Hammond had 
the opportunity of examining into her condition. She came 
out of her sleeping apartment partly dressed, went slowly 
down-stairs to the parlor without noticing anybody around 
her; took a match which she had brought with her from her 
own room, rubbed it several times on the under side of the 
mantel-piece until it caught fire, turned on the gas and lit it. 
She then threw herself into an arm-chair and looked fixedly at 
a portrait of her mother which hung over the mantel-piece. 
A large book, held between her eyes and the picture, did not 
stop her from gazing in the same direction ; neither did sev- 
eral motions with the hand, as if about to strike her in the 
face, make her wink. " I was entirely satisfied that she did 
not see, at least with her eyes." Upon the application of pun- 
gent vapors to her nose, she gave no evidence of feeling any 



FUNCTION OF THE SPINAL CORD. — REFLEX ACTION. 223 

irritation. Sour and bitter substances inserted into her mouth 
had no other effect. Scratching the back of her hand with a 
pin, pulling her hair, and pinching her face, appeared to 
excite no sensation. On tickling the soles of her feet, how- 
ever, she at once drew them away, but no laughter was pro- 
duced. "The spinal cord was therefore awake." She was 
finally roused from her sleep by shaking her head, when she 
burst into a fit of hysterical sobbing, but had no recollection 
of anything that had passed, or of having had a dream of any 
kind. 

This interesting case brings before us an instance in which 
it plainly appears that mental modifications (here the all-ab- 
sorbing longing for a beloved mother), although seemingly 
unconscious, were, nevertheless, capable of producing a whole 
train of actions as correctly as if their execution had taken 
place under the full light and guidance of consciousness. 
These same phenomena we may witness going on under 
perfect normal conditions, if we observe the actions of a new- 
born child. " The new-born child," says Virchow in his lecture 
cited above, " is a beautiful specimen of an almost purely spinal 
being. It does not show the least sign from which we could 
infer that its volitions or actions are conscious. All its 
actions bear the spinal character, and so far they may be called 
essentially instinctive. Let us look upon such a child when 
it is hungry. It begins to be restless, and makes various 
motions, especially with the head ; it turns the mouth toward 
the side and moves the lips. ' It seeks the mother's breast.' 
If the breast is given, it at once takes hold of it, and com- 
mences to suck and to swallow. When satisfied, it lets it go, 
stretches itself contentedly and goes to sleep. If, on the con- 
trary, it does not find the breast, then its motions become live- 
lier; its face assumes the expression of vexation or anger, and 
turns red ; it begins to cry. The more it cries the more violent 
grow its motions, until the whole body becomes involved in 
them. If we now put a finger into its mouth, it presently com- 
mences to suck and to be quiet, but soon 'it finds out that it is 
being deceived,' and cries louder than ever. Can we recognize 
these actions as truly conscious or made with design ? Surely not ; 



224 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

we merely impute to the child what from long experience we have 
learned to be our own conscious motives. We say: ' the child 
will,' ' it seeks,' ' it is vexed ; ' but in truth it knows nothing at 
all of these mental acts. It has yet to learn them all by many 
sad experiences in the course of time as its ' spirit develops.' 
But what it completely possesses is the general sense of feeling. 
The restlessness, the vexation, the contentedness which it 
shows, manifestly prove that (in the above chosen instance) it 
not only has a sensation of hunger and of satisfaction, but distin- 
guishes also the conditions of its body as pleasurable or pain- 
ful. It possesses, therefore, a faculty or power of estimating its 
own sensations, by means of which, so to speak, the value of 
the sensations and of the conditions of the body based thereon, 
are measured. It has the faculty of perceiving whether a con- 
dition be beneficial or injurious; it shows pain or delight. 
Does it really judge? Does it think without knowing it? 
Does it reflect without willing it ? " In this passage Virchow 
remarkably intermixes truth, half truth, and wrong conclu- 
sions. It is true that the new-born child is a notable instance 
of an almost purely spinal being, and for the simple reason 
that its higher senses are not at all developed, or so little that 
a decided influence of the same over the lower is absolutely 
indiscernible. The lower or vital senses, on the contrary, 
have at that time a considerable start of the higher. Already 
during the period of gestation the faculties of the sympathetic 
system, as well as those of the general sense of feeling, and 
from the second half of the period of gestation at least, the 
muscular sense too, have been in continued exercise — that is, 
they have been continually acted upon by external stimuli, of 
which numerous vestiges, according to their similarity, have 
united into various mental aggregates. Although these aggre- 
gates by themselves never attain to any high degree of con- 
sciousness, they nevertheless are, in their nature and their 
activities, entirely like all other mental modifications. They 
bear, so far as they consist of many similar vestiges, the char- 
acter of conceptions, if ever so dim, in comparison with the light 
of higher mental developments. They assume the character 
of conation in all forms of desire and aversion, and in quite a 



FUNCTION OF THE SPINAL CORD. — REFLEX ACTION. 225 

considerable degree, as the external stimuli are not held very 
tenaciously by this class of primitive forces; and when several 
of these modifications are simultaneously excited into con- 
sciousness, they naturally produce that consciousness of their 
difference which we have called feelings of pleasure or of pain. 
As these various aggregates, by means of mobile elements, are 
constantly conjoined into various groups and series, which, in 
consequence of this union, enjoy a common re-excitationj we 
need not wonder when we see the child born with " a faculty 
or power of estimating its own sensations," or see it " wish, 
seek, or desire, or getting vexed, or acting in various manners 
to a purpose," because these mental acts do really and truly 
exist in its lower senses, and are the necessary consequences of 
mental development anywhere. As, furthermore, these lower 
senses have their bodily substratum in the central gray of the 
spinal cord (for the sympathetic system is most intimately in- 
terwoven with the spinal cord by the rami communicantes), it 
is plain why the first manifestations of a new-born child are 
essentially of a spinal character. We may apply this psycho- 
logical explanation, in its full bearing, to the experiments of 
Pniiger upon decapitated frogs. As long as the animal lives 
after such mutilation, its lower senses, the substratum or me- 
dium of which has not been injured, continue to act in their 
accustomed ways, not mechanically, not automatically (which 
term explains nothing), but strictly in accordance with the 
psychic developments previously obtained. It is not a special 
soul which animates the spinal cord, but it is the- lower senses 
which find the centre of their medium or substratum located 
therein. 

Virchow evidently feels the weight of Pfluger's experiments, 
but is nevertheless averse to his conclusions. He says, " Un- 
doubtedly, the power of estimating its own bodily conditions 
(Schatzungsvermogen) has its seat in the spinal cord. But 
shall we conclude that the spinal marrow of the frog has a soul 
(Gemuth) ? Are the feelings of pleasure and pain, the awaken- 
ing desires and effects, the actions consequent thereon, to be 
ascribed to a special soul ? Or, are not the anatomical elements 
of the spinal cord, the several living parts of the same, fully 



22(') PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

sufficient to explain the sensation as well as the estimation of it, 
and the consequent actions, by the peculiar and mutual action 
of these living parts upon each other? " Although he cannot 
prove the assumption which lies embodied in the last proposi- 
tion, he, nevertheless — from want of an adequate insight into 
the elementary psychical processes, and actuated by his precon- 
ceived ideas that all mental phenomena are the result of 
chemical and molecular changes in the nerve-cells — takes this 
view, which he expresses in the following sentence : " It is im- 
possible to accept, beside the organic structure of the spinal 
cord, still another particular, unanatomic, or, as some prefer to 
call it, an immaterial agency, which feels, thinks, wills, and 
acts; 1 ' and further on : "Nothing speaks for such an assumption 
(of an immaterial ageiicy), which is contradictory to all experi- 
ence and logic, but our ignorance of the finer construction of 
the spinal gray, and the difficulty, yet unsolved, to unravel the 
interior conection of this incredible and at the same time in- 
finitely complex tissue." As all this is merely a reiteration of 
the common materialistic belief and a confession of the defec- 
tiveness of physiology for the explanation of these problems, 
with a hopeful view that the future might yet be able to solve 
them, I need not again repeat what has been said in refutation 
of it, and shall simply refer to the respective chapters of this 
work. But when he undertakes to strengthen these views by 
alluding to the fact that the excitability of the spinal organism 
may be increased or diminished at pleasure by poison, medi- 
cine, or stimulants, and then asks: "Shall we suppose that 
these substances act upon the immaterial substance? that 
strychnine or curare affect the spinal soul or the general sense 
of feeling?" we have then to reply that this is, as in the case 
of Maudsley, a mixing-up of condition with cause. These sub- 
stances indeed act upon the primitive forces of the " general 
sense of feeling " as well and in the same way as other external 
stimuli do. When we see that strychnine increases the irrita- 
bility of the spine, and that curare paralyzes the nerves with- 
out affecting the irritability of the muscles, it is plain that 
these substances act as poisons, as overdoses, and attack the 
bodily substratum in such a degree as to alter and change the 



VOLITIONS. 227 

means or conditions by and under which a normal activity of 
the primitive forces alone is possible. The " spinal soul," or 
the " general sense of feeling," is only secondarily affected, so 
far as its normal activities are interfered with by the abnormal 
condition of its bodily means to execute them. 

90. Volitions. 

Theodor Meynert, in his highly interesting essay on the 
brain of mammals (in Strieker, p. 694, 1872), makes the follow- 
ing remarks : " The first attribute to be ascribed to the nerve- 
cell is capability of sensation ("Empfindungsfahigkeit"). The 
results of physiological researches do not yet entitle us to place 
the process of sensation in one certain section, for instance 
in the brain only ; for the fact constrains our fair consideration 
that the amphioxus shows unmistakable signs of conscious 
animal life, although it is endowed only with spinal central 
gra} r . But to attribute to any of the nerve-cells any other funda- 
mental quality, as for instance that of a motor y principle, is entirely 
inadmissible. Motory quality is possessed only by the muscular 
tissue, and if any excitation of a nerve-cell, which may be 
identical with the process of sensation, finds means and ways 
to be converted into muscular force, then the relation of a 
central organ to the movements is, sufficiently explained by 
this arrangement, and it does not matter at all whether the 
motion follow upon the sensation in timely continuity or dis- 
continuity, whether the stimulation be carried through the 
direct diameter of the spine, or find a medium in an incal- 
culable chain of interruptions along the conducting arches of 
the cerebrum." 

Fritsch and Hitzig ( Ueber die elektrische Erregbarkeit des Gross- 
hirns; Eeichert and Du Bois-Reymond's Archiv., 1870, p. 300), 
found "that the excitation of distinct and limited localities 
(centres) of the anterior convex portion of the brain produced 
movements of certain muscular groups on the opposite side of 
the body, while the same excitation of portions of the hemi- 
spheres, situate more posteriorly, produced no such effect. 
Thus they found the centre for the muscles of the nape of the 



228 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

neck situate in the middle of the prefrontal convolution 
(gyrus praafrontalis), the centre for the extensor and adductor 
muscles of the anterior extremity at the extremity of the ex- 
ternal end of the post-frontal convolution ; and, somewhat 
behind, the centre for the flexor and rotator muscles of the 
same extremity. The centre for the muscles of the posterior 
extremity is also situate in the post-frontal convolution, but 
more behind and toward the median part than the centre for 
the anterior extremity. The muscles innervated by the facial 
nerve are controlled by a centre located in the middle portion 
of the supersylvian convolution. By still more recent experi- 
ments, Nothnagel found that by a circumscribed chromic acid 
lesion on the surface of the cortex, which penetrated into its 
substance about one millimetre deep, in a limited locality, 
which corresponded exactly to the external end of the post- 
frontal convolution (Fritsch and Hitzig's centre for the mus- 
cles of the extremities), the animals lost the muscular sense 
in the anterior extremity on the opposite side to the cerebral 
lesion. In the same way Nothnagel produced the loss of the 
muscular sense in dogs, in which the effect is still more marked 
than in rabbits. The described phenomena can be called forth 
only by producing the lesion in the above-named limited 
locality, but in no other way. In this locality, therefore, must 
be situate a central station for the passage of the peripheric 
sensitive impressions which are produced by the different posi- 
tions of the limbs. From the fact, however, that after a certain 
time the animals recover the lost muscular sense, Nothnagel 
concluded that the terminal station, or the real centre for the mus- 
cular sense, must still exist elsewhere, and that in the above locality 
there was destroyed only an intermediate station in the tract of the 
muscular sense. After a while, however, other ways become 
opened for the passage of the muscular sense." (W. B. Neftel, 
M.D., Brown-Sequard's Archives, 1873 ; North American Jour- 
nal, November, 1873, p. 226 et seq.) 

Thus it seems that even by these experiments, although they 
prove, contrary to the observations of former investigators, 
that the cortical substance of the cerebral hemispheres is in 
close relation to certain muscular groups, the real centres of 



VOLITIONS. 229 

the muscular sense and muscular motion are still not found. 
Without doubt the reasons for this are, in the first place, that 
the points or stations from which certain groups of muscles 
may be acted upon are quite multifarious ; and secondly, that 
these points are not at all end-points or laboratories in which 
sensation is converted into motion, but that they serve merely 
as necessary links for the conduction of certain stimuli to 
certain muscles. At these stations, indeed, new passengers 
may be taken in and carried on the common route, as in the 
case of the application of a weak galvanic current to these 
localities, which proves nothing more than that electricity 
finds a conducting medium from one particular point to an- 
other particular point (which, in consequence thereof, con- 
tracts), or that these two particular points stand in a more or 
less direct connection. When, on the other hand, a lesion 
of these parts interferes with the normal action of the muscu- 
lar sense, it shows that afferent and efferent nerves terminate 
in close proximity ; but how and where has not been discov- 
ered. But even if we take the statement of Gerlach in regard 
to the spinal cord as a positive fact, namely, that the ultimate 
termination of the nerves results in an exceedingly fine plexus, 
it would merely explain, in a certain manner, the connection 
between different afferent and efferent nerves, but would not 
bring us one iota nearer to an understanding of the organs in 
which sensation and volition originate. As these finest nerve- 
fibrils have to be considered as the bodily conducting means 
for the external as well as the internal stimuli, we would still 
have to look for something beyond them, in which sensation and 
motory stimulus could take their origin. These experiments 
prove nothing, therefore, regarding the real seat, or rather the 
real prima causa of sensation as well as volition. They merely 
show that certain connections exist between certain central 
and peripheral points, and that is all. 

So far experiment has reached negative results only. The 
ground has been cleared, but no harvest reaped; and the 
recurring question finds no answer: Are there really any 
separate organs for the origination of sensation and volition 
within the nervous centres ? The nerve-cells which formerly 



230 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

were considered as such, have lost this prestige by the more 
recent investigations of Deiters and Schultze. If we, there- 
fore, find nerve-cells connected with motory or efferent nerves, 
we can attribute to them a special motory principle just as 
little as we can consider the nerve-cells, on the other hand, as 
the receptacles and laboratories of sensorial perceptions. Thus, 
even from an anatomical and physiological point of view, we 
are driven to the acknowledgment of higher psychic forces as 
the real prima causa of sensation and volition. 

What Maudsley has cleverly put together and called the 
motorium commune is, in fact, nothing more nor less than the 
vestiges and consequent mental modifications which have 
been acquired by means of the muscular sense in combination 
chiefly with the sense of touch. He speaks frequently of " a 
region of mental activity," of "motor intuition organized in 
the proper nervous centres," of " the region of motor intui- 
tions," of " the region of actuation," but he very wisely abstains 
from pointing positively to where these regions may be 
found. "There can be no doubt," says he, " that such a region 
of mental activity exists, and that in it are contained, pre- 
determined and co-ordinated, the faculties of different groups 
and series of movements" (p. 169). This broad assertion 
would sound more correct (physiologically), if he had said, such 
regions, etc. ; but whether he use the term region or regions, 
he has advanced not a whit in the psychology ; he has but indi- 
cated a terra incognita. It appears as if Maudsley made him- 
self guilty of packing certain concrete phenomena into one 
abstract "region of mental activity," etc., a fault no less in 
degree than that of the old-school psychologists, whom he 
justly charges with this illogical proceeding when they main- 
tain a separate faculty of will, etc. 

Neither physiologically nor anatomically is Maudsley's 
motorium commune tenable. Psychologically it resolves it- 
self into the conative sphere of the mind, of which we have 
spoken. All primitive forces possess, as living psychic forces, 
a conative quality, that is, a quality ever tending toward 
action, the sensory nerves serving as " feelers," and the motory 
as " fangs." In other words, the primitive forces are con- 



VOLITIONS. 231 

stantly striving toward and endeavoring to receive external 
stimuli, and propagate their excitation in all directions. Thus 
it happens that in the lower and especially in the vital senses, 
which do not possess retentive power in a degree sufficient for 
the development of clear consciousness, external stimuli pass 
in certain channels to corresponding muscular tissue and 
excite the muscle into involuntary motion, and in this way 
all the movements which are essential for the sustenance of 
life, the functioned vitales, go on without knowledge or will. It 
is an immediate transformation of external stimuli into mo- 
tion, the transformation being effected through channels 
preformed for this purpose. Herein consist the lowest forms 
of reflex action. Those on a higher plane, where reflex actions 
take place in senses of greater retentive power, appear much 
more complex, and assume the character of conformability to 
a certain purpose, or as being done designedly. This is of 
necessity, for in their inmost nature they correspond entirely 
to those mental forms we comprise under the name of voli- 
tions and voluntary actions. A volition is by no means a 
simple process. It is a stage of development the child reaches 
only at the cost of considerable time. Not until single desires 
have been formed by many and repeated (especially pleas- 
urable) excitations (26), not until single conative efforts have 
through many and repeated attempts been conjoined to par- 
ticular movements of single groups of muscles as the means 
for the realization of the desire (42), do volitions and voluntary 
actions take place in the child. Now, as an act of desiring is 
at the same time an act of conceiving (28), it is plain that 
consciousness appertains also to volitions. We see, therefore, 
that in the child the development of volitions goes hand in 
hand with the development of consciousness. More than once 
it has been stated that consciousness varies in the degree the 
several primitive forces are endowed differently with retentive 
power. From this it follows that volitions of the higher senses 
must be characterized by a greater degree of consciousness 
than is attained by those that are measurably lower ; that, 
therefore, all conative modifications of the latter, so long as the 
higher senses remain undeveloped, must lack more or less 



232 PHYSIGLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

this quality. We need not wonder, then, that the new-born 
child appears at first as a purely spinal being, or in other 
words, that its first actions, or rather movements, appear to be 
without consciousness. Its higher senses, those primitive 
forces which are endowed with sufficient retentive power 
for clear consciousness, have not been developed. But this 
lack of consciousness is only a lack in degree. Even the 
lowest or vital senses are capable of developing a certain 
amount of consciousness. This is an inherent quality of all 
psychic forces. Let the amount of consciousness be ever 
so faint, it nevertheless is consciousness, just as gold remains 
gold if it can be detected only by the microscope. The voli- 
tions of the lowest senses differ, therefore, from those of the 
higher in the degree of consciousness, but do not differ in kind. 
If we bear in mind that the degree of consciousness depends also 
upon the number of like vestiges and their excitation, we can 
easily understand why the so-called reflex actions and what 
has been termed automatic actions (a term which, indeed, ex- 
plains nothing) may be classed with propriety in the conative 
sphere of the mind. All these movements and actions are 
going on in strict accordance with the law of diffusion of mo- 
bile elements. In the lowest reflex actions external stimuli 
are at once carried in definite channels to certain groups of 
muscles which they excite into motion, while higher reflex 
actions and conscious volitions, properly so called, originate in 
mobile elements which may have to traverse " an incalculable 
chain of interruptions along the conducting arches of the cere- 
brum " before they reach their destination. A large amount 
of mobile elements will, therefore, not only cause movements 
of a more violent character, but also, on a larger scale, the 
abundant elements spreading in all directions to different sets 
of muscles. This is proved not only by physiological experi- 
ments (which show that strong and continued external stimuli 
notably induce more violent and extended movements), but 
also by the psychological fact that strong mental emotions are 
no less capable of exciting the whole bodily frame, even to con- 
vulsions. It is everywhere the same psychical process, the 
diffusion of mobile elements. Shall we, then, look longer 



THE FEELINGS. 233 

for particular places or cells in the brain, spine, or ganglia, 
where volitions originate (using the word in its widest sense)? 
Anatomy and physiology have not been able to demonstrate 
them, and psychology does not need them, for we know that 
any act of desiring is more or less also an act of conceiving. 
According to the law of attraction of like to like, the single 
conative acts unite and form single volitions, which again, 
considered as a whole, constitute " the will." It is with pleas- 
ure that I can here refer to Maudsley's advanced views in regard 
to this subject. In those views, what is still left doubtful 
and obscure could easily be cleared up by a study of Beneke's 
psychological works. 

91. The Feelings. 

The same praise cannot be bestowed upon what Maudsley 
treats under the title of " the emotions" The great confusion 
which prevails in the old psychology as regards these mental 
modifications has not improved under the influence of physio- 
logical considerations. Here, as there, the same indistinctness 
between emotion and passion, feelings and desires is obvious. 
Although, on page 142 in Maudsley's work, a very proper way 
as to how one might arrive at an adequate account of the emo- 
tions is described, this advice has not been followed out. 

The sum and substance of Maudsley's physiological investi- 
gations culminate in this : " The recognition of this specializa- 
tion and complexity in the function compels us to assume a 
corresponding development in the delicate organization of the 
nervous structure, although, by reason of the imperfection of 
our means of investigation, we are not yet able to prove a 
process of such delicacy in these inmost recesses to which our 
senses have not gained entrance " (p. 124). This appeal for 
leniency in judging the shortcomings of physiological re- 
searches because of the insufficiency of the present physiologi- 
cal means, can apply only to those minds who unreasonably 
expect what it is not possible to accomplish. For, taking it even 
for granted that the tracing of processes of such delicacy were 
possible, what could we expect to see? Molecular motion. 

16 



234 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

Would these molecular motions be the identical emotions? 
Who would dare to assert this? Who could prove it? We 
would, even then, be just where we started. Although further 
advanced in the knowledge of the concomitant changes in the 
bodily substratum during a psychical process, similar to the 
advancement of knowledge which we have gained in regard 
to the process of seeing and hearing by the discoveries of Helm- 
holtz and Corti, we would still not have arrived at the origin 
and nature of our emotions (just as little as by these discov- 
eries we have been made to understand the process of seeing 
and hearing in its character as sensation). It is the funda- 
mental error that taints the entire materialistic persuasion, to 
consider as cause what in fact is but a condition. Nobody de- 
nies that " an increasing specialization and complexity in the 
function requires a corresponding development in the organi- 
zation of the nervous structure," and we may even with toler- 
able propriety reverse this conclusion, and say that where we 
find a highly organized nervous structure we may naturally 
expect a corresponding specialization and complexity in the 
function. Still, this would not prove that the higher nervous 
• development is the cause of the increasing specialization and 
complexity in the function. It would merely state that these 
two things — higher organization and complexity of function — 
usually go hand in hand. I say usually, for on the ground of 
the great difficulty of judging fairly the perfection or imper- 
fection of so complex an organ as the brain, it is not always 
possible to arrive at a correct conclusion. 

Usually, for instance, the presence of numerous and deep 
convolutions is considered as a sign of higher intelligence. If 
this be admitted to be a law deduced from a majority of cases, 
it certainly does not apply to all. If materialism bases upon 
it the correctness of its conclusions, we should demand nothing 
less than its application in each and every instance. A single 
glaring exception would render these conclusions more or less 
doubtful. Thus, for example, we find in Henle's Nervenlehre, 
p. !63,<the drawings of two brains, one of a young nameless 
German, and the other of the celebrated Gauss ; that of the 
latter appears so strikingly more simple and poor in its con- 



THE FEELINGS. 235 

volutions than that of the first, that Henle finds it necessary 
to remark : " There are collections of brains of unknown per- 
sons which present great richness in convolutions, all the pos- 
sessors of which we surely have no right to consider as undevel- 
oped geniuses ; and, on the other hand, it would certainly be 
inadmissible to dispute the legitimacy of the rank which a 
meritorious man has held during his life, on account of the 
result of a post-mortem examination." 

At most, then, we may say that usually an apparently higher 
nervous organization corresponds to a higher mental develop- 
ment. But to make this relation, even if it were unexceptional, 
a relation of cause and effect, evinces a marked defectiveness in 
logical reasoning. It certainly does not follow that of two 
things which usually or even invariably appear together or 
follow one another, the one is the cause of the other. This 
co-existence or succession may be a mere relation of time, place, 
or condition. Thus, for instance, it would be a faulty con- 
clusion if we were to assert that the revolution of the earth 
around its axis and around the sun were the cause of day and 
night and of the change of seasons. Would these revolutions 
and all these changes be possible without a sun? Is, then, the 
sun not the cause of day and night and of the seasons? Still, 
without these revolutions there would be no such changes, 
because they are the condition necessary for their production; 
yet the sun is the cause of all. A similar relation exists be- 
tween the bodily nervous organization and mental phenomena; 
the first are the necessary condition for the display of the latter ; 
yet the cause lies deeper in those psychical forces which con- 
stitute the human soul. 

The psychologist will always thankfulty receive the diligent 
researches of physiology, as they undoubtedly tend to clear up 
the complex conditions under which mental phenomena mani- 
fest themselves, but he must earnestly protest against the hasty 
assertions which make conditions causes and pretend to possess 
in physiology the only and sufficient means for the explana- 
tion of mental life. Even the simplest mental phenomenon in 
its origin and nature cannot be satisfactorily explained by 
physiology. How utterly inadequate this science proves for 



23G PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

the explanation of higher mental processes! We have a glar- 
ing example of this inadequacy in the attempt of Maudsleyto 
explain "the emotions" on this basis. It will not do to assert 
in a general way "that the condition of the nervous centres is 
of the greatest consequence in respect to the formation of the 
so-called mental faculties, and the manifestation of their func- 
tions " (p. 129) ; that " the greater the disturbance of nervous 
element, however produced, the more unstable is its state; and 
an instability of nervous element, implying, as it does, a sus- 
ceptibility to rapid molecular or chemical retrograde meta- 
morphosis, furnishes the most favorable conditions for the pro- 
duction of emotion, passion, or commotion, as the term was of 
old" (p. 136) ; that "the aesthetic feelings are without question 
the result of a good cultivation, conscious development having 
imperceptibly become a sort of instinctive endowment, a refine- 
ment to which vulgarity of any "kind will be abhorrent ; they 
are the bloom of a high culture, and, like ccenesthesis, represent 
a general tone of mind, which cannot be described as definite 
emotion, but in which certain ideas that arise will have pleas- 
ant emotional qualities. Reflect, again, on the powerful effects 
which the aspects of nature produce upon philosophic minds 
of the highest order. The vague mysterious feelings which 
such minds have as instinctive impressions of their fellowship 
with nature, traits of that harmonious sympathy with events 
whereby an indefinite feeling of joy transports them in view of 
certain of her glories, or a dim presentiment of evil oppresses 
them under different relations : these are vague psychical feel- 
ings that, in reality, connote the highest intellectual acquisi- 
tion ; they are the consummate inflorescence of the highest 
psychical development, the supreme harmonies of the most 
exalted psychical tone" (p. 138 and 139); that "the moral 
feeling betokens an improved quality or higher kind of nerv- 
ous elements, which ensues in the course of a due development, 
and which may easily again be disturbed by a slight physical 
disturbance of the nervous element " (p. 144), etc. 

I say it will not do for so-called exact science to flourish 
generalities, and pass them off as analytical explanations of 
psychical evolutions. Although they appear, if taken with 



237 

some allowance, tolerably correct in a general way, they do not 
in the least explain the origin, nor analyze the nature of these 
processes, and we must, in the name of science, dismiss this 
kind of physiological talk as entirely inadequate for solving 
psychological problems. The psychical processes in general, 
and the feelings (emotions) in particular, admit of a better ex- 
planation and of a thorough analysis, as any one may convince 
himself w T ho studies the new psychology of Beneke, or even 
reads attentively w T hat has been explained in the correspond- 
ing chapters of this work. 

92. Dr. L. S. Beale's Protoplasm. 

I have only lately had the good fortune of becoming ac- 
quainted with the excellent writings of Dr. Lionel S. Beale, 
through Dr. Drysdale's valuable work on The Theory of Proto- 
plasm. There is at this moment, when materialism and spirit- 
ualism struggle for the palm of victory, scarcely anything more 
important and to the point than Beale's investigations and 
Fletcher's theory, as represented by Dr. Drysdale. As Dr. 
Beale's microscopical investigations have a close bearing upon 
physiological psychology, I shall now state, in his own words, 
w^hat concerns us here. The results of his long and patient 
investigations on the nature of protoplasm are as follows : 

1. " The term ' protoplasm ' has been applied to several dif- 
ferent kinds of matter, to substances differing from one another 
in essential particulars. To sum up in a few words : The term 
protoplasm has been applied to the viscid substance within the 
primordial utricle of the vegetable cell of the threads and fila- 
ments formed in this matter; to the primordial utricle itself; 
to this and the substance w T hich it incloses, and to all these 
things, together with the cellular w T all ; to the matter compos- 
ing the sarcode of the foraminifera ; to that which constitutes 
the amceba, white blood-corpuscle, and other naked masses of 
living matter; to the matter between the so-called nucleus and 
muscular tissue, and to the contractile matter itself; to every- 
thing which exhibits contractibility ; to nerve-fibres, and to 
other structures possessing remarkable endowments; to the 
soft matter within an elementary part, as a cell of epithelium; 
to the hard external part of such a cell ; to the entire epithelial 
cell ; to slimy matter dredged from great depths under the sea; 
and, lastly, to matter existing only in the imagination. 



238 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

" Inanimate albuminous matter, which is incapable of any 
movement whatever, or which does not develop into any living 
thing, which in all conditions is perfectly lifeless, has been 
looked upon as protoplasm. Living things have been spoken 
of as masses of protoplasm ; the same things dead have been 
said to be protoplasm. If the matter of an animal be boiled 
or roasted it does not thereby lose its title to be called proto- 
plasm ; and there seems no reason why it should not be dis- 
solved and yet retain its name protoplasm." (Prot., p. 113.) 

"In my lectures at the College of Physicians, 1861, 1 had 
drawn attention to the great distinction between 'living' and 
1 formed matter ' of the elementary part or cell, and of all living 
organisms ; and had shown that the ' living matter ' of the cell 
corresponded to the material of which the amoeba, white blood- 
corpuscle, pus-corpuscle, etc., were composed. These last I 
represented as naked masses of living matter, and objected to 
apply to them the term protoplasm, because so many textures, 
which were not living, were said to consist of that substance. 
My conclusions were summed up as follows : ' In all living 
beings the matter upon which existence depends is the germinal 
matter (bioplasm), and in all living structures the germinal 
matter possesses the same general character, although its powers 
and the results of its life are so very different.' " (Prot, p. 92.) 

"The characters of bioplasm may be studied in the lowest 
organisms in existence, and in plants as well as in man and 
the higher animals. Being so very transparent, and often 
imbedded in dark and more or less opaque tissue, bioplasm 
has often been overlooked, and has been mistaken for mere 
passive fluid occupying a space or vacuole in the tissue. Bio- 
plasm, or living matter, is, as far as can be ascertained by 
examination with the highest powers, perfectly structureless. 
It exhibits the same character at every period of existence, 
and in every living organism." (Biopl., p. 47.) 

" There is not one portion of a living growing tissue -^fa of 
an inch in extent in which living matter cannot be demon- 
strated." (Prot, p. 42 ) 

" At every period of life, in every part of the body, sepa- 
rated from one another by a distance little more than the 
yoVo P art °f an inch, are little masses of living matter." (Prot., 

p. 304:.) 

" Man and animals, all their tissues and organs, their forms 
and structures, result from series of changes, which commence 
in a portion of matter too minute to be weighed, which is 
invariably perfectly colorless, and which appears perfectly 
structureless." (Prot, p. 301.) 



DR. l. s. beale's protoplasm. 239 

" The smallest masses of living matter are spherical, and 
the largest mass always assumes the spherical form when free 
to move in a fluid 'or semifluid medium." {Microscope, p. 3L2.) 

" The particles of living matter consist of structureless, 
colorless, transparent semifluid matter." (Biopl., p. 7.) 

" In order to distinguish the invariably transparent living 
matter or bioplasm from the frequently transparent formed 
material, it is necessary to pursue a particular method of 
investigation, which I have fully described in my How to 
Work with the Microscope. The value of this process depends 
upon the fact that all bioplasm is colored red by an ammoniacal 
solution of carmine, while all formed material, notwithstanding it 
has been traversed by the alkaline colored fluid, remains perfectly 
colorless. The fluid which I use in the preparation of my 
specimens has the following composition: Carmine, 10 grains; 
strong liquor ammonia, J drachm ; rectified spirits, J ounce ; 
Price's glycerin, 2 ounces; distilled water, 2 ounces. Every 
kind of living or germinal matter or bioplasm receives and fixes the 
color of this fluid, while no kind of formed material known is 
stained under the same circumstances." (Biopl. p. 44.) 

2. " There is a period in the development of every tissue, 
and every living thing known to us, when there are actually 
no structural peculiarities whatever, when the whole organism 
consists of transparent, structureless, semifluid, living bioplasm, 
when it would not be possible to distinguish the growing 
moving matter which was to evolve the oak from that which 
was the germ of a vertebrate animal. Nor can any difference 
be discerned between the bioplasm matter of the lowest, 
simplest, epithelial scale of man's organism, and that from 
which the nerve-cells of his brain are to be evolved. Neither 
by studying bioplasm under the microscope, nor by any kind 
of physical or chemical investigation known, can we form any 
notion of the substance which is to be formed by the bioplasm, 
or what will be the ordinary results of its living." (Biopl, 
p. 17.) 

" One form of living matter is indistinguishable from an- 
other. Neither the most careful microscopical observation, nor 
the most skilful chemical analysis would enable us to distinguish 
the living matter obtained from the body of an ape from that 
taken from a man, dog, fish, or human form of life. But who 
will affirm that, therefore, all these different forms of living 
matter are one, identical ? Although there may be no physical 
or chemical differences, we know that the life-history of these 
several forms is very different, while the results of their living 
are sufficient to prove that they must have been diverse from 
the very first." (Prot, p. 284 ) 



240 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

" Two forms of living matter may be indistinguishable by 
observation or experiment, and yet they may be as widely re- 
moved from one another as are the poles. The remarkable 
differences, however, are not of a kind to be expressed in any 
terms known to physics or chemistry. They must be referred 
to powers that have been handed down by preceding bioplasm. 
Such dilferences are of the vital kind, and although not recog- 
nizable by the balance or the microscope, their existence must 
be admitted, unless all the subsequent structural differences 
resulting from changes in the living matter can be otherwise 
adequately accounted for." (Prol, p. 286.) 

3. " The colorless structureless matter, characteristic of and 
peculiar to all life on earth, and in air, and in water, is capable 
of moving in every part and in every direction. The move- 
ments are not such as are produced by vibrations communi- 
cated to the fluid or semifluid substance from matter in 
vibration in its neighborhood, but the impulse proceeds from 
within the matter itself." (Biopi, p. 7.) 

" Bioplasm always tends to move toward the pabulum it is 
about to take up and to transform. This tendency to move is 
one of the essential attributes of living matter. The move- 
ment is quite per se, but it is characteristic of every form of 
living matter. The idea that any form of non-living matter 
might move in this way or possess capacity for initiating such 
movements, is opposed to observation and experiment, and can- 
not be entertained at this time." (Prot., p. 271.) 

" Living matter may, by its vital movement, transport itself 
long distances, and extend itself so as to get through pores, 
holes, and canals, too minute to be even seen with the aid of very 
high powers. There are creatures of exquisite tenuity which 
are capable of climbing through fluids, and probably the air 
itself; creatures which climb without muscles, nerves or limbs; 
creatures with no mechanism, having no structure, capable, 
when suspended in the medium in which they live, of extend- 
ing any one part of the pulpy matter of which they consist 
beyond another part, and of causing the next to follow, as if 
each part willed to move and did so." (Prot., p. 276.) 

4. " The character of living matter can be studied very 
readity in the amoeba. These low forms of living beings are 
generally found in great numbers in water containing a little 
decomposing vegetable matter. If carefully examined under 
the one-twelfth of an inch object-glass, the amoeba will be 
observed to alter in form. At various parts of the circumfer- 
ence protrusions will be observed! The protrusions consist of 
the material which forms the basis-substance of the amoeba. 



DR. L. s. beale's protoplasm. 241 

It will be observed that this moving material is perfectly 
transparent, and in it no appearance of structure can be dis- 
covered. It is true that granules and foreign particles may be 
seen imbedded in it, but the matter in which the motor power 
resides is perfectly clear and transparent. Motion is commu- 
nicated to the solid particles by the movements of the trans- 
parent living matter. Under certain circumstances the move- 
ments cease, and a change is observed to take place upon the 
surface. The outer part of the amoeba becomes condensed, 
and thus formed material results which protects the remains of 
the living within. The external surface of a mass or particle 
of living matter in contact with air or fluid becomes altered. 
In plain language the living matter upon the surface dies, and 
according to the conditions under which death occurs, different 
substances may result. These may be solid, fluid, or gaseous. 
They may be soluble or insoluble in water. They may be soft 
or hard, colored or colorless. They are formed, and their for- 
mation is, in great part, due to the relation which the elements 
of the living matter were made to assume toward each other 
during the living state. This relation is definite, so that from 
the same kind of living matter under similar conditions the 
same formed substances result." {Microscope, p. 313.) 

" The formed material may be regarded as a product result- 
ing from the collision of internal vital, and external physical 
forces. It therefore owes its properties partly to the changes 
occurring in the matter when in the living state, partly to the 
external conditions present when the matter was undergoing 
change— that is, at the moment of its death." (Microscope, 
p. 323.) 

5. " Nothing that lives is alive in every part." (Prot, p. 187.) 

" Of the matter which constitutes the bodies of man and 
animals in the fully formed condition, probably more than 
four-fifths are in the formed and non-living state." (Prot, 
p. 137.) 

" Even in the smallest organisms which exhibit the simplest 
characters, as well as in every texture of the most highly com- 
plex beings, we can demonstrate two kinds of matter, differing 
in very important particulars from one another ; or, perhaps, it 
would be more correct to say, matter in two different states, mani- 
festing different properties, and exhibiting differences in appear- 
ance, chemical composition, etc., and physical characters." 
(Prot, p. 182.) 

" Xot even the smallest living particle seen under the one- 
fiftieth of an inch objective consists of matter in the same state 
in every part, for it is composed of 1, living matter ; 2, matter 



242 



PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 



formed from this; and 3, pabulum which it takes up. The 
i) latter in the first state is alone concerned in development, and 
the production of tliose materials which ultimately take the form of 
tissue, secretion, deposit, as tlte case may be. It alone possesses the 
power of growth, and of producing matter like itself out of materials 
differing from it materially in composition, properties and powers. 
I have, therefore, called it germinal or living matter or bioplasm f 
to distinguish it from the formed material, which is in all cases 
destitute of these properties." (Prot. } pp. 184, 185.) 

"The difference between germinal or living matter, or bio- 
plasm and the pabulum which nourishes it on the one hand, 
is, I believe, absolute. The pabulum does not shade by imper- 
ceptible gradations into living matter, and this latter into the 
formed material, but the passage from one state into the other 
is sudden and abrupt, although there may be much living 
matter mixed with little lifeless matter, or vice versa. The 
ultimate particles of matter pass from lifeless into the living state, 
and from the latter into the dead state suddenly. Matter cannot be 
said to half live or half die. It is either dead or living, animate 
or inanimate; and formed matter has ceased to live." (Prot., 
p. 185.) 

" The terms living and dead have for me a meaning some- 
what different from that commonly accepted. If my argu- 
ments are sound, the greater part of the body of an adult man 
or animal at any moment consists of matter, to #11 intents and 
purposes, as dead as it would be if the individual itself were 
deprived of life. The formed material of the living cell is 
dead. The only part of the living cell and the living organism 
which is alive is the germinal matter. Nothing can be regarded 
as alive or living but germinal matter in which vital changes 
alone take place. The phenomena of imbibition, osmose, etc., 
in cells, even the contraction of muscles and the action of 
nerves, are probably in themselves physical actions, although 
they were immediately preceded by, and are probably the 
direct consequence of, actions purely vital. But for these vital 
phenomena those physical actions could never have occurred 
in the precise way in which they did occur, nor effect the 
purpose they did effect. Were it not for the vital actions, 
osmose, muscular contraction, nerve action, etc., would, of 
course, soon cease, and could not be resumed unless the con- 
ditions were all re-arranged as they were before. The formed 
material in which all these changes occur could not have been 
formed without the previous manifestation of vital phenomena. 
We may go backward as far as we can, but we shall always 
find vital actions concerned in bringing about the condition 



THE RESULTS OP INVESTIGATIONS. 243 

of things necessary for the peculiar physical and 'chemical 
changes which occur subsequently." (Microscope, p. 329). 

These extracts, which are taken verbatim from Dr. Lionel 
S. Beale's works (How to Work with the Microscope, fourth 
edition, London, 1868; Bioplasm, an Introduction to the Study 
of Physiology and Medicine, London, 1872 ; and Protoplasm, or 
Matter and Life, London, 1874), demonstrate : 

1. What he understands by protoplasm, and what not ; 

2. That there are different kinds of protoplasm or living 
matter, although indistinguishable from one another by ob- 
servation or experiment ; 

3. That one of the essential attributes of living matter is 
its tendency to move ; 

4. That living matter, under certain conditions, is converted 
into formed material; and, 

5. That the difference between bioplasm and formed material 
is absolute, the first being alive or living, the latter dead. 

93. The Results of Microscopical and Psychological 
Investigations Compared. — Living and Dead. 

These results, which Dr. Beale has achieved by long and 
patient investigations, are entitled to a most careful considera- 
tion. In the first place he has divested the term " protoplasm " 
of the ambiguity with which it has heretofore been used even 
by the most advanced histologists. By confining its meaning 
to that wonderful stuff which is without color and structure 
and of a semifluid consistence, which exists everywhere 
where there is anything manifesting life, and without which 
the lowest form of animal or vegetable nature has no existence, 
from which, in fact, man, animals and vegetables, all their 
tissues and organs, their forms and structures, result through 
series of changes ; he has demonstrated a fact which is of the 
most fruitful application in physiology — that stuff, always 
derived from a preceding one of the same kind, is, in all living 
forms, the last and farthest point to which the microscope can 
penetrate ; or, considering it in an opposite direction, the first or 
starting-point, the punctum saliens, demonstrable by the micro- 



244 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

scope, and from which the development of any living organism 
springs. J >r. Beale has, therefore, called it germinal matter; and 
we might well define it as the stuff which comprises within 
itself the primitive forces of all bodily development. What, in- 
deed, the primitive forces of the soul are for all and every kind 
of psychical development, this germinal matter is for all and 
every kind of bodily growth. To this point, as said before, 
the microscope reaches; but neither by the microscope, nor by 
the most subtle chemical means, are we capable of discerning 
any difference between the germinal matter of the lowest and 
of the highest forms of organisms. Still differences, and even 
vast differences, must exist between them from the beginning, 
as the life-history of the various forms which result therefrom 
clearly demonstrates. " Such differences," Dr. Beale says, "are 
of the vital kind, not recognizable either by the balance or 
microscope." If it were not that we knew already different 
kinds of primitive forces which are likewise beyond the reach 
of balance and microscope, we might well ask what was meant 
by differences of " a vital kind." With those who do not see 
further than the microscope permits, and do not weigh more 
than the balance is capable of marking, this vital kind of differ- 
ence has, indeed, been a great stumbling-block. It is, how- 
ever, useless to refute again the materialistic preconceptions 
which confound the knowable with the visible. The proto- 
plasm, indeed, contains primitive forces which lie absolutely 
out of the range of the microscope and chemical reagents, just 
as the primitive forces of the soul lie beyond chemical analysis; 
and they resemble each other not only in this, but in still 
other particulars. 

It is an essential attribute of living matter (protoplasm) that 
it has a tendency to move, that any part of this pulpy matter is 
capable of extending itself beyond another part, and of causing 
the rest to follow, as if each part willed to move and did so. 
We are well acquainted with this peculiarity as an innate 
quality, also, of all psychical primitive forces, and we have 
called them, for this reason, conative in their nature (24). They 
strive toward and are acted upon by external stimuli, and 
therebv become converted, changed, or modified, under 



THE RESULTS OF INVESTIGATIONS. 245 

certain conditions, into perceptions, concepts, desires, etc., as 
the case may be. Just so the protoplasm moves toward and 
receives pabulum. Under certain circumstances its move- 
ments cease, and a change is observed to take place upon its 
surface This change may result in the formation of different 
substances, which may be soft or hard, colored or colorless. 
They are formed, and this formed material may be regarded as 
a product resulting from the collision of internal vital and ex- 
ternal physical forces. In short, the same fundamental process 
described in 4 we see repeated here, namely, the transformation 
of primitive forces by external stimuli. As in the human soul 
sensations and perceptions (mental modifications) originate in 
consequence of impressions from the external world, so in 
any kind of living being the protoplasm, which comprises 
within itself the primitive forces of all bodily development, is 
converted under certain conditions into formed material. The 
relation between the protoplasm and this formed material is 
definite ; so that from the same kind of matter, under similar 
conditions, the same formed substances result, just exactly as 
from psychical primitive forces the same mental modifications 
result when they are influenced under similar conditions, as is 
shown by the different but definite products arising from a 
deficient, full, pleasurable, satiating or painful stimulation. 
To sum up briefly: Soul and body consist, from the beginning, 
of primitive forces which, although unrecognizable by balance 
or chemical means, are, nevertheless, essential to any psychical 
or bodily development. They are mobile elements, conative 
in their nature, and are converted by the action of suitable 
external stimuli (" under certain conditions," Beale), either on 
the one hand into mental modifications, or on the other hand 
into formed material. 

Beale has described the conversion of living matter into 
formed material as taking place suddenly, without any tran- 
sitory state, and considers the difference between germinal 
matter and the formed material absolute. Having called 
the germinal matter living matter, he considers the formed 
material to all intents and purposes dead. This antithesis, 
although seemingly correct in the sense in which Beale uses 



24G PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

it, might nevertheless be better expressed by "formative and 
form,ed" terms likewise used by Dr. Beale. For " living" and 
" dead " are concepts not generally accepted in a uniform sense. 
If Ave consider that formed matter, so long as it remains in 
union with and under the influence of "living" matter, which 
is the actual state of all living things, is not quite so " dead " 
as when this connection is entirely broken (in order to express 
this still " deader " condition, we speak of decay and dissolu- 
tion), we cannot help thinking that the word " dead " applied 
to formed material is not altogether a fortunate choice. It is 
true when living matter is converted into formed material it 
loses the power of spontaneous movement, and of assimilating 
pabulum, and changing pabulum into matter like itself; but, 
on the other hand, it gains by acquiring a definite form upon 
which it imprints indelibly its own innermost nature, and 
which is quite essential to the " life " of the individual. 

Is it well to compare this formative or organizing process 
with the process of " dying," a process which is always associ- 
ated in the mind with the idea of disorganization and decay 
especially when we see that the formed material remains con- 
tinually under the governing influence of living matter so long 
as there exists any connection between the two ? 

If, according to Dr. Beale, " some directing agency of a kind 
peculiar to the living world exists in association with every 
particle of living matter, which, in some hitherto unexplained 
manner, affects temporarily its elements, and determines the 
precise changes which shall take place when the living matter 
again comes under the influence of certain external conditions " 
(Prot.j p. 314), it appears that this " living " matter, so far as it 
is demonstrable, is itself dependent on something entirely dif- 
ferent from itself; that not it, but the " peculiar kind of agency " 
with which it is associated is the "living" force. Thus we 
have two different things to distinguish in every particle of 
" living " matter. First, what composes its invisible directing 
agency, and secondly, that visible, jelly-like substance with 
which the first is associated. By what right now is this 
stuff called " living " in preference to formed material ? The 
one as the other is alike animated by some invisible force. 



THE NERVOUS APPARATUS. 247 

Why should formed material be called " dead," even if it is 
one remove further off from the " directing agency " than pro- 
toplasmic matter, so long as it remains likewise under the in- 
fluence of the power that animates the protoplasm ? 

But beside this there are other considerations which make 
one hesitate in the adoption of this sharply-defined antithesis 
of living and dead, when applied to protoplasm and formed 
material. The questions might be raised : Is there anything at 
all in God's world which could be called absolutely " dead " — 
that is, entirely destitute of force, entirely inactive? Is not 
everything that exists capable of action and reaction whenever 
brought under certain conditions ? We shall, however, have 
to recur to this subject at some future occasion. 

94. Beale on the Structure and Action op the 
Nervous Apparatus. 

1. "It was supposed that in many cases nerves pursued an 
almost direct course to their ultimate distribution, where they 
terminated in free extremities, in cells, or by becoming con- 
tinuous with the texture they influenced. More careful obser- 
vation has, however, demonstrated that all nerves, before they 
reach their finest ramifications, form microscopic networks or 
plexuses, are arranged upon the same plan as the coarser net- 
works ; and I have been able to demonstrate that the finest 
ramifications themselves constitute a plexus or network, in which 
the compound ultimate fibres are arranged in much the same man- 
ner as the dark-bordered fibres entering in the formation of one of 
the ordinary plexuses." (Microscope, p. 331.) 

" I am of opinion, therefore, that there is not such a thing as 
a true end of any nerve-fibre." (Microscope, p. 332.) 

" I consider that numerous specimens I have made fully 
justify me in maintaining the general proposition that in all 
cases the terminal distribution of nerves is a plexus, network, 
or a loop, and hence that in connection with every terminal 
nervous apparatus there must be at least two fibres, and that 
in all cases there exist complete circuits, into the formation of which 
central nerve-cells, peripheral nerve-cells, and nerve-fibres enter. All 
these elements are in structural connection with each other." 
(Microscope, p. 333.) 

2. " My observations have led me to conclude, not only that 
nerves never terminate in ends in voluntary muscle, but that there 



248 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

are no terminal extremities or ends in any nerve-organ whatever" 
(Biopl., p. 249.) 

" Nerve-tufts {Nervenhugel) are not terminal organs, but net- 
works. The nerve-tufts consist of a complex network of fibres, 
the meshes of which are very small. Connected with the fine 
nerve-fibres are numerous masses of bioplasm or nuclei. The 
plexus or network constituting the nerve-tuft is not terminal, 
nor does it result from the branching of a single fibre, as has 
been represented. Many fibres enter into its formation, and 
from various parts of it long fine fibres pass off to be dis- 
tributed upon the surface of the sarcolemma." (Biopl, p. 207.) 

" It seems to me most probable that these nerve-tufts are ex- 
ceptional and not present in all muscles, nor essential to volun- 
tary muscle generally. As in other tissues, the peripheral 
arrangement of the nerves in voluntary muscle is a continuous 
network, in which the nearest approach to an ' end ' or ' termina- 
tion ' is a loop." {Biopl, p. 268.) 

" The remarks which I make with reference to the ultimate 
nerve-fibres distributed to voluntary muscle, will apply to the 
ultimate nerve-fibres distributed to other organs." {Biopl, 
p. 274.) 

3. " I will now refer very briefly to the arrangement of the 
nerve-tissue in that particular part of the gray matter of the 
convolutions which I believe to be the seat of the operation of 
the mental influence. At the surface of the gray matter of 
the convolutions a most intricate interlacement of the finest 
nerve-fibres is observed. I have traced fibres to the surface, a 
short distance beneath the pia mater, and have seen them turn 
back again into the gray substance. In many instances the 
long fibre that passes from the caudate cells may be followed 
to a point about the ■£$ of an inch below the surface, where 
it divides into numerous branches, many of which again 
divide and subdivide. In short, the ultimate ramifications of 
the long fibre running perpendicularly toward the surface, 
branch off at a right angle, or almost at a right angle, and 
radiate horizontally in every direction. They very soon, how- 
ever, turn inward again, and it is not possible to follow the 
individual fibres. Now, the surface of the gray matter of the 
convolutions immediately under the pia mater is almost 
destitute of bioplasts; but a little beneath this point, that is, 
in the situation exactly where the fine ramifications of the 
nerve-fibres are in greatest number, and are pursuing the most 
varied courses, are collections of roundish, very transparent, 
minute bioplasts, which are probably connected with one an- 
other by exceedingly delicate branches. These are in immense 



THE NERVOUS STRUCTURE. 249 

numbers, but form groups, though in the intervals between the 
groups the bioplasts are still numerous. The appearances and 
arrangement of the bioplasts, which are for the most part less 
than a white blood-corpuscle, are not unlike those observed in 
the so-called granules constituting the granular layer of the 
retina, and in the cortical substance of the cerebellum. These 
minute bioplasts have been termed ' granules,' but such a name 
seems to me particularly inappropriate. These so-called 
* granules ' are all composed of bioplasm, and are examples of 
highly endowed living matter. In all the organs in which 
they are found, they constitute an essential portion, and per- 
form a very important office." (Prot., p. 319.) 

" I believe that the bioplasts referred to are directly con- 
cerned in mental action." (Prot, p. 321.) 

" The number of the nerve-fibres, like that of the bioplasts, 
is altogether beyond calculation. A portion of gray matter 
upon the surface of a convolution, not larger than the head of 
a very small pin, will contain portions of many thousands of 
nerve-fibres, the distal ramifications of which may be in very 
distant and different parts of the body. These nerves may, 
however, only indirectly influence distant parts through the 
intervention of other nerve-fibres, and some of them may be 
concerned in directing the associated movements of certain 
fibres of several different muscles." 

4. " I believe the caudate nerve-cells, which form such promi- 
nent objects, and which are very numerous in the gray matte* 
of the brain of man and mammalian animals, ought not to bo 
regarded as the sources of mental nervous influence, although 
doubtless they are very intimately connected with, and, indeed, 
may be absolutely necessary to the act of thinking. These re- 
markable bodies constitute an essential part of the apparatus 
which is influenced by the mental bioplasts." (Prot., p. 321.) 

5. " In the highest bioplasm the vital power determines 
movements, which, by reacting upon a previously formed 
mechanism, may give rise to the most complex phenomena. 
In the mental apparatus, the ' will ' is the ' power ' which de- 
termines the movements of the matter of the bioplasts taking 
part in the phenomena of the mind. This is a vital action, the 
highest vital action with which we are acquainted ; but clearly 
to be included in the same category as the vital actions which 
determine the active movement of the matter of the simplest 
forms of bioplasm, as that of an amoeba, or a white blood-cor- 
puscle, or other bioplast. The movement of this, the highest 
form of bioplasm, reacts upon a wonderfully elaborate appara- 
tus, parts of which are in close relationship with the mental 

17 



250 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

bioplasts. Changes excited in the apparatus are the immedi- 
ate consequence of the vital movements. These last only are 
truly mental, while the expression of thought is but a result 
of the influence of the mental vital action upon the mechanism 
concerned in expression, without which thought could not be 
rendered evident to another person. A great distinction must, 
indeed, be drawn between the thought and the expression of 
the thought." {Biopl , p. 208.) 

" Perhaps the relation borne by the little bioplasts to the 
nerve mechanism may be roughly, but not inaptly, compared 
with that which subsists between the intelligent workman and 
the highly complex machinery which he directs and controls, 
stops and sets going. He would be useless without the ma- 
chinery, but the latter could not work to any advantage except 
under the superintendence of an intelligent director." (Prot., 
p. 322.) 

6. " From the foregoing observations the reader will be led 
to conclude that I regard a nervous apparatus as consisting 
essentially of fine fibres and masses of bioplasm, which form 
uninterrupted circuits. The fibres are continuous with the 
bioplasts, of which some are central, some peripheral, and 
grow from them. By chemical changes in the matter formed 
by the bioplasts, electrical currents may be produced, and these 
traverse the fibres. The currents, varying in intensity accord- 
ing to the changes in the nerve-cells, would be affected by 
pressure upon the nerve-cords which transmit them. Currents 
emanating from bioplasts at one part of the circuit would in- 
fluence the changes in the bioplasts in another part, and the 
last react upon the first." (Biopl, p. 209.) 

" Such investigations cannot fail to impress us with the won- 
derful character of the mechanism concerned in nervous phe- 
nomena, and lead us to conclude that the effects produced are 
to be attributed rather to the mechanism through which force 
works than to any mysterious or peculiar properties of the force 
itself. Let no one, therefore, conclude that anything is gained 
by regarding nerve-force as electricity, or some mysterious, 
unknown correlative of ordinary force, of the nature of which 
we know nothing. If we admit it to be ordinary electricity, 
the problem is not solved; for it is obvious that its manifesta- 
tions are due entirely to the peculiar arrangement of the nerve- 
cells and fibres which constitute the mechanism for setting 
free and conducting the currents. It is not possible to conceive 
nerve phenomena without a special nervous apparatus, and 
it would be absurd to ignore this apparatus in considering the 
nature of nervous action. The action of the machine cannot 



THE NERVOUS STRUCTURE. 251 

be disassociated from its construction. But the construction of 
the apparatus and its maintenance in a state fit for action are 
due to vital power. The lowest, simplest, and least varied 
kinds of nervous action, like all other actions known in con- 
nection with the living elementary parts of living beings, are 
intimately connected with vital changes, and cannot be ac- 
counted for by physical and chemical laws only. When we 
assent to the consideration of the higher and more complex 
nervous actions, w T e find reasons for concluding that the vital 
actions perform a still more important part. In the brain of 
man w T e have probably the only example of a mechanism pos- 
sessing within itself, not only the means of repair, but the 
capacity for improvement, and the power of increasing the 
perfection of its mechanism, not only up to the time when the 
body arrives at maturity, but long after this, and even in 
advanced life, w T hen many of the low T er tissues have undergone 
serious deterioration, and have long passed the period of their 
highest functional activity." {Microscope, p. 338.) 

These few excerpts may be considered the result of Dr. 
Beale's researches, elaborately laid down in his exceedingly 
instructive works, regarding the action and structure of the 
nervous apparatus. Briefly stated they are as follows: 

1. That in no case do the nerves terminate in free extremities, 
but in all cases form plexuses or networks; that they thus 
form circuits, into the formation of w T hich enter nerve-cells, 
peripheral nerve-cells and nerve-fibres ; that in fact the nerv- 
ous apparatus consists essentially of fine fibres and masses of 
bioplasm, which form uninterrupted circuits. The fibres are 
continuous with the bioplasts, of which some are central, and 
some peripheral, and the fibres grow from the bioplasts. 

2. That this applies to the nerves of the voluntary muscles 
as well as to those of all other organs, and that, therefore, the 
nerve-tufts are not terminal organs, but networks ; so that in 
the peripheral arrangement of the nerves in the voluntary 
muscles, as well as in all other tissues, the nearest approach to 
an end or "termination" is a loop. 

3. That in the gray matter of the brain the so-called "gran- 
ules" are composed of bioplasm, and are examples of highly 
endowed living matter, which is directly concerned in mental 
action. 

4. That the caudate nerve-cells ought not to be considered 



252 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

as the sources of mental influence, although they constitute an 
essential part of the apparatus which is influenced by the 
mental bioplasts. 

5. That will and thought are truly vital mental actions, 
while the expression of thought is a result of the influence 
of this vital mental action upon the mechanism concerned in 
its expression. There is a great difference between thought and 
the expression of thought. 

6. That by chemical changes in the matter formed by the 
highest bioplasts, electrical currents may be produced and 
made to traverse the nerve-fibres ; but that there is nothing 
gained by regarding nerve-force as electricity, or some mysteri- 
ous unknown correlative of ordinary force, as the construction 
of the apparatus and its maintenance in a state fit for action 
are due to vital power. 

95. Psychological Application. 

These results are the fruit of the most careful investigations, 
instituted and pursued by Dr. Beale for more than fifteen 
years. They throw more light upon the structure and action 
of the nervous apparatus than the most diligent and minute 
physiological researches had thus far been able to do. In the 
brain, it was supposed, the nerves somewhere had their origin ; 
and yet, on closer examination, they were found to split and 
split until their finest ramifications escaped further tracing, 
while at the periphery the single fibres were thought to ter- 
minate in some way or other — here and there divisions ad 
infinitum — an unintelligible wherefrom and whither. The fine 
"granules" at either end, although noticed and described, were 
looked upon as strange objects completely unexplainable as to 
their nature and functions. By Dr. Beale's discoveries these 
obscure and intricate points have been cleared up. He has 
demonstrated that the "granules" contain the very fountain 
of life, inasmuch as they comprise within themselves that 
" directing agency of a kind peculiar to the living world ; " 
that they consist of microscopic bioplasts with which the 
nerve-fibres are continuous and from which they grow ; that 



PSYCHOLOGICAL APPLICATION. 253 

the nerves do not terminate at the periphery, but form plexuses; 
and that thus the entire nervous apparatus must be consid- 
ered as consisting essentially of fine fibres and masses of 
bioplasm which form uninterrupted circuits. He further 
places the caudate nerve-cells in their proper rank as sta- 
tions of different nerve-fibres, and disowns them as sources of 
mental influence. He considers that the only matter in the 
gray substance of the brain which is directly concerned in 
mental action are the "granules," all of which are composed 
of bioplasm, and which are examples of highly endowed 
living matter ; but thought and will are truly vital mental 
actions, while the expression of thought is but a result of the 
influence of this vital mental action upon the mechanism 
concerned in its expression. 

In these results we find all that psychology as a natural 
science can ask from physiology. It is the same, final conclu- 
sion at which we have arrived in the preceding chapters, 
that the brain is not the cause but only the condition of 
mental activities. Bioplasm comprises within itself that 
"directing agency of a kind peculiar to the living world;" 
and the "granules," as highly endowed living matter, are 
associated with this agency which is directly concerned in 
mental action. 

This is the boundary where all physiological and micro- 
scopic-anatomical researches must necessarily come to an end. 
They have demonstrated the beautiful apparatus, the mechan- 
ism concerned in the expression of thought and will ; but the 
agency which causes mental action escapes their grasp. 

At this point we must either give up unravelling mental 
phenomena altogether, or enter upon their investigation by 
the only means which mental phenomena afford — consciousness 
in general and self-observation in particular. In the first three 
parts of this work we have shown what results we can attain 
by the method of investigation indicated — the study of con- 
sciousness and self-observation. In the following parts we shall 
still more enlarge our psychological knowledge upon the same 
basis of investigation. 

In concluding this physiological part of our work, it yet 



254 PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

remains to state what we, from our psychological standpoint, 
understand by " that directing agency of a kind peculiar to 
the living world," with which all bioplasm is associated, and 
which in the " granules," as highly endowed living matter, is 
directly concerned in mental action. We state that this 
agency, which is associated with the protoplasm of the human 
body, and which lies beyond any demonstration of chemistry 
or microscopy, consists of the several primitive forces of the 
human soul (1) ; or, as we as well might put it, the human soul 
consists of the several primitive forces which, being associated 
w T ith corresponding protoplasm, are the cause either of the 
production of mental modifications in consequence of the action 
of external stimuli (by the higher and lower senses), or of the 
production of bodily formations in consequence of the absorp- 
tion of pabulum (by the vital senses). All this will be made still 
more apparent as we proceed in our investigations. 



PART V. 

COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 



96. On the Method of the Study of Psychology. 

Having thus far unfolded the results of psychological, 
as well as physiological, investigations in regard to mental evo- 
lution, it seems well to insert in this place part of a chapter 
from Beneke's work, " Die Neue Psychologies (Berlin, 1845), con- 
cerning the treatment of psychology as a natural science : 

" The human life represents itself in all its evolutions as one 
entire whole. We find exaltations, depressions, changes of dis- 
positions with the greatest rapidity transferred from the body 
to the mind, and vice versa from the mind to the body ; per- 
haps not the least disturbance takes place in either of them 
without affecting the other. Furthermore, up to our time all 
attempts have been futile to draw even a boundary line between 
the two with an appropriate precision. Is it the soul, or is it 
the tongue or the stomach that tastes, that has the sensation of 
hunger or satiety? If I have toothache, this bodily pain, as it 
is usually termed, is also part of my soul, holding a like rela- 
tion as my sensorial perceptions or my thoughts, which it dis- 
turbs in various ways, or which, on the other hand, may sup- 
press it even more successfully than the best specificum. 

" Under these circumstances it was but a natural conclusion 
to treat body and mind as one whole, and try to explain psychic 
evolutions out of the bodily organization. For thus ran the rea- 
soning process: Inasmuch as the psychic evolutions are the 
product of the greater perfection of man's bodily organization, 
compared with other animal organizations, so must also the 

(255) 



25G COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

results and laws of psychic development be explainable by the 
results and laws of bodily organization, and psychology must 
needs expect its solution from anatomy and physiology. 

" This doctrine was largely accepted in France. There origi- 
nated the ' systeme de la nature? the writings of Lamettrie 
(Llwmme plaute, Llwmme machine, etc.) in the past, while 
in our century it is advocated by Cabanis and Brussais, and 
the entire materialistic school. But all attempts in this direc- 
tion have failed thus far to bring about a satisfactory solution, 
and will fail in the future. They have talked of brain fibres, 
which were believed to produce conceptions and thoughts by 
their vibrations; of a nerve-spirit, which was supposed to flow 
from the extremities of the nerves to the centre of the brain 
and vice versa. All these assertions are hypotheses that merely 
float in the air — hypotheses, to prove the truth of which no 
anatomical knife or microscope has yet brought forth a single 
confirmatory fact. Still, let us suppose that in the future this 
might be done, what gain would it prove to be for such a ma- 
terialistic construction? What could be found would be 
nothing but peculiar kinds of changes — extension, color, density, 
motion, etc. We will allow the fullest freedom to the adher- 
ents of this doctrine, to devise and to combine, to their hearts' 
content, such qualities. With such combinations will they ever 
be able to produce anything like a thought, or any other 
psychic development of even a most distant similarity? 

" In this respect physiognomy and phrenology stand higher* 
What physiognomy and phrenology, in conformity to their 
fundamental ideas, endeavor to realize, is not an explanation 
of the mind through the body, but only a determination of cer- 
tain parallels between them ; and, although what has thus far 
been elucidated by them may not have yet come up to scien- 
tific requirements, still, what they attempt is a practicable pro- 
position, and, if achieved, might bring us many valuable hints 
and confirmations, useful for the classification and construction 
of psychic developments. An interpretation and deduction of 
mental processes, however, from these bodily parallels would 
still remain far away from the true explanation of the cause, 
even if they were carried and perfected with the utmost acu- 
men to the highest certainty. 



ON THE METHOD OF THE STUDY OF PSYCHOLOGY. 257 

"The incommensurability of mind and body had led others to 
a diametrical opposition to these attempts, and it seemed to be 
wise to try to construe psychology out of general ideas. The lat- 
ter method could not succeed, although in philosophy this 
method of psychological inquiry was for a long time the spirit 
dominating inquiries. As its advocates attempted to derive all 
truth a priori, from experience, and existing facts were consid- 
ered as of secondary importance only, it could not well be 
otherwise than that the doctrine of the psychical powers or fac- 
ulties found almost as many different explanations and deter- 
minations as there were different investigators. What the one 
believed to be innate, another called acquired, and so on. In 
short, speculative psychology, however ingeniously it was 
compounded and construed, offered nothing but guesswork and 
opinions toward the solution of the question. Under these cir- 
cumstances it was a natural consequence that a third way of 
handling the subject of mental science should have been inaugu- 
rated, namely, a method which, for more than two hundred 
years, has been followed with such marked and striking results 
in the upbuilding of physical science. It is the method by 
which investigation places itself entirely upon the solid ground 
of positive experience and facts, which facts are again, by 
means of induction and hypotheses, elaborated to higher views 
and general laws. 

" It has been doubted whether this method could be practi- 
cably applied to the study of psychology, inasmuch as our 
apperception of mental processes is quite imperfect. The experi- 
ences with which psychology has to deal are those of other 
people or ourselves. Experiments made on other persons 
must, it is asserted, necessarily be of quite an imperfect nature, 
because we can never observe immediately w T hat takes place 
in the minds of others, but can only guess at it from the 
external signs which they display by action or pantomime — 
surely a very unsatisfactory means to discern actual processes. 
The interpretation, too, of these signs is made solely upon the 
basis of our own mental development. We explain according 
to our views. Our own individuality is the barrier w T hich will 
often prevent a correct interpretation of another's individuality. 



258 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

Thus, instead of gaining objective signs, the indispensable con- 
dition for scientific truth, we rise only to subjective opinions 
through the observation of others. 

"These objections, however, can be easily removed. They 
touch, indeed, only subordinate by-work. Though, on the 
whole, the ambiguity in the observations of others cannot be 
denied, we do not even need science to overcome this kind of 
obstacle. It is obviously true that the most varied interests of 
life are constantly at work finding out what another is think- 
ing, feeling or intending. From this constant observation a 
knowledge of the meaning of these external signs has been 
developed, is constantly increasing by the colaboration of 
millions, and is acquired from childhood and propagated 
from mouth to mouth. Beside, science is capable of perfecting 
this knowledge constantly, and has done so already with great 
success. Really, in this respect little is left to be desired for 
human knowledge. 

"Of a graver nature is the objection that in interpreting 
external signs we necessarily underlie them with our own 
individuality. The mistakes which have been made in this 
respect are innumerable. Take as instances the (frequently in 
their greatest part) monstrous tales about savage tribes, or the 
still widespread incapability of understanding people of a 
different rank or a different education or temperament. There 
is no doubt that the capability of knowing and understanding 
another does not reach farther than our own development has 
advanced. On the other hand, however, it is undoubtedly just 
as true that every man carries in himself, at least to a certain 
degree, the elements of all that can be developed by human 
nature. It all depends upon whether we separate accurately 
enough and combine again with sufficient skill what we per- 
ceive in ourselves, in order to become capable of comprehending 
even the apparent strangest combinations in others. In this re- 
spect the talents for observation have continually enlarged dur- 
ing the progress of the human race. Consider, for instance, the 
extent, the versatility, and at the same time the truthfulness 
to nature which present themselves in the works of Shakes- 
peare or Sir Walter Scott. With such facts before us we need 



ON THE METHOD OP THE STUDY OF PSYCHOLOGY. 259 

hardly complain of the incompetency and subjectivity of 
psychological observation. 

" But in order to be perfectly clear in this matter we have yet 
to consider the second, and indeed the main, source of psycho- 
lgical knowledge, namely, the observation of that which takes 
place within ourselves. This source has been objected to because, 
it is said, we may perceive but cannot observe ourselves, an 
objection which, indeed, could proceed only from those 
who have never made a persistent habit of observing them- 
selves. Observation is a process of the mind which does 
not, like sensation and perception, take place of or by itself 
alone. We find thousands who never make observations, even 
of the phenomena of the external world. Observation requires 
more than the senses. Take as an instance a physician, who is 
called to the bedside of a patient, and compare what he sees 
with that which the attendants of the patient see. The physi- 
cian at once associates the symptoms before him with all 
similar perceptions and notions of former experiences, and 
through them his present perceptions rise to an observation; 
he sees what is the matter in this particular case, while the 
attendants, although constantly about the patient, come to no 
higher mental operation than that of perceiving that the 
patient has such and such a pain, but the cause and connec- 
tion of the symptoms they never understand. This is true 
of all cases of external perception, and the same is true of 
our internal perception. The latter, like the former, is attain- 
able in any degree of clearness, definiteness, accuracy and 
energy wilich makes one capable of observing the most fleet- 
ing and faintest, as well as the strongest and most overwhelm- 
ing psychic processes with all necessary precision. But this 
capability must first be acquired, and acquired by a long train 
of special exercises in the direction of inner perception. Who 
neglects this training may attain to self-perception, but will 
never acquire a talent for self-observation. 

"Inner perception, it is further objected, cannot be armed 
and sharpened by instruments as external perception can. For 
the inner senses there exist no magnifying glasses. 

"Supposing for a moment that this were true in its fullest ex- 



2G0 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

tent, that is, that self-perception were in want of all advantages 
which external perception enjoys by means of certain instru- 
ments, the objection would still apply only to a defect of second- 
ary importance, touching merely the perfection of knowledge 
which thereby'in single cases might be desirable, but it would 
in no way, as a whole, be of great weight in the present contro- 
versy. However, the assertion that the inner senses cannot 
be armed and sharpened, is not wholly true. There are a 
number of measures for psychological observation through 
which the same advantages may be received as through the 
application of magnifying glasses in making outward ob- 
servations. 

" Observe the psychical results of certain influences which 
have recurred for centuries in the same manner, or their effects 
upon whole nations, classes, ranks, etc., or even upon single 
mental acts, when they are very numerous. To illustrate the 
last instance, let us explain the effect which the subject and 
the predicate exercise upon each other in an act of judging. 
How can we find this effect out ? We answer, let us look 
through a magnifying process. Remember, for instance, the 
impression which was produced in you by the hearing of a 
masterpiece of music or poetry. The impression was, perhaps, 
at the first hearing overwhelming, exciting, confusing. You 
could not 'make up your mind ' as to its real merits. By and 
by you heard it again, and later again. Gradually you gained 
an in and oversight of the whole. You had time to add cor- 
responding concepts to the single perceptions, and the different 
emotions, the varying tone of your feelings, gradually crystal- 
lized in a series of judgments. That which at first by its super- 
abundance acted confusingly and indistinctly, by repetition 
has now become clear and distinct. Is this, as regards its 
contents, anything different from the first hearing of the same? 
By no means ; it is exactly the same piece of art still ; but you 
have had time to add from your store of previous acquire- 
ment the corresponding concepts which enlighten or bring 
into fuller light the single concrete impressions you now re- 
ceive. Just exactly what occurred in this instance takes place, 
on a large scale, in every act of judging, however insignificant 



ON THE METHOD OF THE STUDY OF PSYCHOLOGY. 261 

it may be; namely: The subject is rendered clearer by the 
addition of its corresponding predicate, which contains the 
same elements, but also a greater multitude of vestiges. On 
the other hand, let us suppose a man strongly inclined to live, 
as it were, in the realm of abstract ideas, which unfits him 
almost for the duties of common life, and let this man be 
thrown in contact with nature or into society, where he is 
constantly exposed to new and fresh impressions — then, al- 
though, on the whole, he will remain the same man, inclined 
to abstract thinking, he will nevertheless find his notions 
remarkably freshened up and even corrected by the unavoid- 
able impressions which he receives from his actual surround- 
ings. What we see consummated in this case is exactly, on a 
large scale, the same process that takes place in any act of 
judging; namely: The predicate or concept is freshened up 
again by the addition of a corresponding subject, which con- 
tains the same elements, but the elements are in concrete. We 
may say, therefore, that in this and similar ways there are 
indeed interior means by which psychological observation 
may be aided in a somewhat similar manner as external ob- 
servation is by auxiliary instruments. 

" A third objection has been urged. Psychological investiga- 
tion must necessarily lack in precision compared with the in- 
vestigations of external nature, because the sphere of the mind 
allows of no experiments. 

" If this were so, the same objection might be raised against 
many investigations of external nature, which likewise do not 
allow of experimentation. Think of the starry heavens. Even 
here observation is possible, because nature herself makes 
experiments before our eyes in continuous succession, even 
if some phenomena should happen only tw T ice in a century, 
as the transit of Venus. Quite the same is applicable to 
psychical evolutions. But self-observation may be practiced 
much more continuously and in combination with the obser- 
vations we may make on others, or which w 7 e may scan from 
the experience of others, and from literary works of all kinds. 
We indeed gain material abundant enough in regard to the 
development of the human soul, and in such perfection that 



2G2 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

we, perhaps, might find no question which could not satisfac- 
torily be answered thereby alone. But the assertion that we 
cannot make experiments in our psychological investigations 
is entirely false. We are able, for instance, to meditate on a 
subject of thought immediately after we have done the same 
on a similar subject, or on something more or less different, 
with more or less intensity, for a shorter or longer time. We 
can do it after a temporary state of sheer vegetative existence, 
or in changing intervals with passive recollections and dreamy 
phantasies. We may meditate during various moods of the 
mind, under exciting invitations, prospects, expectations, or 
under the ban of opposite depressing influences, either con- 
nected with the subject of our thoughts or relating to entirely 
different spheres. Thus countless possible variations might 
be enumerated. Think, for instance, of emotions. We are 
able to keep them to ourselves or to communicate them to 
others of whom we expect either sympathy or the reverse. 
We may try to suppress them by putting ourselves to hard 
work, by reading serious literature or works of fancy of various 
kinds, by which similar or more or less heterogenous feelings 
are produced, and so on ad infinitum. 

"This proves clearly that the assertion, 'our self-observation 
could not be aided by experiments/ is utterly false. On the 
contrary, we may say, experimental aid is here applicable in 
a much greater variety than in any other sphere of external 
nature, because the measures necessary for the same lie 
generally much more immediately in our power; and any 
one who has properly posted himself as to the fundamental 
relations and conditions of the problem to be solved — a con- 
dition quite as necessary also for any successful experimenta- 
tion in external nature — will be capable of executing these 
experiments with all degrees of accuracy and strictness. 

" It is scarcely necessary to add that we can experiment on 
others in a like manner. Such experiments offer themselves 
even unsought and unconsciously under many circumstances. 
Those who ever have observed children will know that their 
teasings and contentions among themselves seem often to have 
no other object than experimentation with each other, for 



OX THE METHOD OF THE STUDY OF PSYCHOLOGY. 263 

they usually cease when their efforts fail to produce any more 
interesting effects. Although this sort of experimentation is 
denned by moral laws, the field of the allowable and practic- 
able is so large, we will scarcely have occasion to complain of 
a need in this respect. 

" But then, it is further asserted, that our knowledge of the 
mind will ever be incomplete, as in no way is it possible to ob- 
serve the first psychical developments which take place in the child, 
and, as upon these all further psychical development is based, 
we must ever remain in want of a positive foundation for our 
knowledge. 

" This fact is no doubt correct. What takes place in the first 
days, weeks and months of a child's life is never recorded by 
self-observation or recollection ; and what is observed by 
adults will ever be indeterminate and uncertain, not only in 
regard to the signs which the child itself exhibits, but also 
in regard to the interpretation of these signs on our part. 
With some it is still a question of doubt whether the distor- 
tions of the face, which we frequently observe in infants and 
which resemble a smile, are the result of a psychic process, 
which has some analogy to a conception of the ridiculous, 
or a feeling of something agreeable, or whether it is merely a 
spasmodic action of the muscles. 

" It is quite probable that most of the educational mistakes 
w r e make at this period, are due to a misinterpretation of such 
signs which the parents underlie (often incorrectly) with their 
own notions and feelings. 

" But, notwithstanding all this, it is nevertheless true that 
we are capable of acquiring the most positive and accurate 
knowledge of even the earliest processes in the infant's soul, if 
we have first acquired a knowledge of the processes in the 
developed mind. Let us exemplify this interesting and im- 
portant fact by a simile drawn from another branch of nat- 
ural science. The astronomer is enabled to predict the posi- 
tions of the different planets in respect to the sun, not only for 
any given time in the fiuture y but he can calculate also what 
that position was at any given time in the past. How is this 
possible ? Because the laws of evolution of the solar system are 



264 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

valid in both directions, and permit, therefore, of a retrogressive 
as well as a progressive construction. This is exactly the case 
as regards the evolution of our souls. So soon as these laws 
are known with the requisite universality, precision and strict- 
ness, we have a perfect right to apply them backward as well 
as forward. The development in nature, as it actually occurs, 
is that from cause to effect ; but the natural development of 
science may, when circumstances otherwise permit, progress by 
the same means from effects to causes ; and therefore, although 
the elementary psychical processes are excluded from immedi- 
ate observation, they are, nevertheless, accessible to our cogni- 
tion if we trace mental developments backward ; and, as we 
may add, provisionally, with such perfection of intellectual 
insight as is scarcely possible of attainment in any other de- 
partment of nature. 

" Still another point has been raised, which, if admitted, is 
believed to prove the impossibility of gaining positive knowl- 
edge by self-observation. 'All self-observation? it is said, 'is 
essentially attached to consciousness. ' Only conscious develop- 
ment of the mind can be observed, and never the unconscious 
forces and faculties ; and thus not only one-half of psychological 
knowledge, but even its more important portion, is lost ; for 
indeed, all conscious developments are products of those inner 
forces and faculties which can be understood and explained 
only by a knowledge of the latter. 

" This objection we answer by the question : Does there exist 
any sphere in the external world in which things stand differently f 
We will not speak here of the medicatrix naturse and other like 
obscure powers and forces, but will mention only such as lie, 
in their effects, perfectly clear before our eyes, e. g., gravitation, 
attraction, impenetrability, electricity, magnetism. Who, we 
ask, has ever perceived what they are, by means of his senses? 
We perceive nothing but results, which we complementary 
underlay with what we call forces. The gap, the defect, there- 
fore, which has been objected to in regard to the material for 
psychological knowledge exists also in all other natural 
sciences. 

"In summing up our investigations we come to the couclu- 



THE OPPOSITE OF CONSCIOUSNESS. 265 

sion that the objections advanced by the opponents of this 
method of treating psychology do not, by any means, prove 
that the science of ps} 7 chology is incapable of an equal ad- 
vancement compared with any of the other physical sciences." 
I must here cease detailing further Beneke's views in regard 
to the method of treating psychology as a natural science. 
His further explanations would involve us in difficulties 
which, at this stage of our investigations, could not satisfac- 
torily be understood. 

97. Consciousness as the Opposite of Consciousness 
not yet Existing. 

One of the greatest obstacles in controversies of this nature 
is the ambiguous use of the word consciousness. Indeed, 
neither the speculative nor the materialistic method have 
arrived at a distinct understanding of what the term con- 
sciousness really implies, in its various forms, in the study of 
mental development. We shall try to gain, in the following 
sections, a deeper knowledge of the versatile nature of con- 
sciousness. 

In the first place we speak of that form of consciousness 
which is the most general quality of all mental modifications 
so far as they have developed in the mind. Before them con- 
sciousness does not exist in any sense, only with them light 
gradually begins to dawn, until by the accumulation of 
similar elements it reaches by degrees all possible shades of 
clearness and distinctness. It is, as we have said before, the 
general quality of all mental modifications. To relegate the term 
consciousness to the one form of mental modifications repre- 
senting the intellectual sphere of the mind only, the " Vorstel- 
lungen, ,} notions, concepts, etc., is to narrow the existence of 
consciousness within boundaries which do not exist. There 
is consciousness as well in all conative modifications and in 
all feelings; but there is no consciousness so long as neither 
one or the other of these types of mental development has 
come into existence. Thus consciousness, in the sense we 
speak of, is not the opposite of unconsciousness, but of conscious- 

18 



2G6 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

ness not yet in existence. It is even not existing to any per- 
ceptible degree in the first elementary acts which form the 
nuclei of these various modifications. It is only by the fre- 
quent repetition of similar acts and by the blending of the 
effects of these acts into one aggregate of sufficient strength 
that the quality of consciousness gradually and appreciably 
develops in them (10). 

The origin of consciousness, therefore, in our sense, as the 
general quality of mental modifications, requires an accumu- 
lation of similar sensory acts (which is brought about by the 
attraction of like to like), and the endurance of the several 
single similar acts as vestiges. As nothing else enters into 
the composition, it follows that the gradual rise of conscious- 
ness does not consist in any particular metamorphosis of the 
original acts; but, on the contrary, what originally conditions 
the rise of consciousness must be given already in those first 
elementary acts. If they do not show it in a perceptible 
manner, it is because they are yet too simple and too ele- 
mentary; they are consciousness yet in a state of incipiency. 

As furthermore these elementary acts consist of a specific 
development or modification of the primitive forces by ex- 
ternal stimuli (external stimuli alone nowhere else .produce 
consciousness), it follows that the main cause of the gen- 
eration of consciousness must lie in the primitive forces of 
the human soul. This view is further corroborated by the 
fact that in the different classes of the primitive forces con- 
sciousness is produced in different degrees, depending upon 
the greater or less degree of energy, or enduring power, with 
which the varied systems of primitive forces are severally 
endowed (8); and that the consciousness in animals never 
reaches the degree of clearness it attains in the higher senses 
of man, because the primitive forces of animals lack the 
peculiar energy which secures to the human soul its special 
spiritual character and nature. 

But the degree of consciousness varies, not only in the 
different systems of the primitive forces, but it is also de- 
veloped in different degrees in the three types of mental 
modifications. Perceptions, concepts (intellectual modifica- 



THE OPPOSITE OF UNCONSCIOUS MENTAL MODIFICATIONS. 267 

tions) attain to a much higher degree of clearness than cona- 
tions and feelings, because they are products of more perfect 
vestiges, conditioned on the one hand by the greater retentive 
power of the higher senses, and on the other by the adequate 
quantitative relation of the stimuli to the primitive forces. 
The quantum of stimulus, being exactly adapted to the 
capacity of the primitive forces, produces a development of 
the latter in the most perfect manner, and results in clear 
perceptions (24 and others). 

As by the law of attraction of like to like all similar percep- 
tions again coalesce (15, 16), the notions or concepts which 
thereby originate must, therefore, be characterized by a still 
greater clearness of consciousness. Thus the mind attains to 
intellectual development, the highest degree of consciousness, 
which has its sole cause in the greater energy of the higher 
human primitive forces and the multiplication of similar ves- 
tiges into one whole by the law of attraction of like to like. 
Nevertheless, we must not overlook the fact that the develop- 
ment of consciousness is common to all classes of primitive 
forces, from the highest down to the lowest in energy — the 
vital forces — which have their bodily substratum in the gangli- 
onic system of the abdomen, represented by and concentrated 
in the solar plexus, which plexus stands in close connection 
with the spinal cord through the rami communicantes, and 
thereby also with the brain (72). These lowest senses, called 
thus on account of their lower degree of retentive power, are 
developed in just the same types of psychical modifications as 
the higher are, in the same forms of perception, conation and 
feelings, which at times, by a strong and lively excitation, 
may even overshadow and subdue the products of the higher 
senses. Instances of this kind are all sorts of acute (so-called) 
bodily pains, hunger, thirst, hypochondriacal feelings, sleepi- 
ness and the like. It is very important that this fact should 
be borne in mind, because there are states and conditions in 
human life which can alone be explained by a knowledge of 
these psychical modifications (developed in the lowest senses), 
and their far-spread influence over the entire activity of the 
human soul. This will be shown more fully when we shall 



2G8 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

speak of sleep, dreams, somnambulism, instinct and similar 
phenomena. 

Consciousness developes in all classes of primitive soul-forces. 
It is, in fact, the innate property or quality of all mental modi- 
fications ; and we may well call the development of the primi- 
tive forces into conscious modifications statical mind, an 
expression which Dr. Maudsley uses in a materialistic sense, 
and by which we understand the sum and substance of all 
modifications whereof the developed mind consists and is 
made of. 

98. Consciousness as the Opposite op Unconscious Mental 
Modifications. — Reproduction. 

The mental modifications which develop day and night, 
and year by year, necessarily and continuously in every human 
soul, which carry in themselves the quality of consciousness 
in the sense of which we have spoken, although in different 
degrees of clearness, must gradually increase to untold num- 
bers, even in ordinary minds. On closer inspection, however, 
we find that we are conscious of but comparatively few modifi- 
cations during any given time of our waking life. Of the 
rest of the immense number we know nothing, and the modi- 
fications just now conscious may, in the next moment, be swept 
away by the rise of others. Our waking state, indeed, consists 
of a continual coming and going of mental modifications, and 
many appear to lie buried so deeply that they never rise into 
consciousness unless some peculiarly exciting causes stir them 
out of their seeming lethargy. Instances of this kind I have 
mentioned already in 6, and illustrations might be greatly 
multiplied if it were necessary for my present purpose. It is 
clear, without enlarging further on this subject, that the sum 
of our conscious activity during waking life at no time exhausts 
the hidden treasures of the latent agencies we possess, or of 
mental modifications acquired. This shows at once the vast 
difference between what we here call consciousness and the 
consciousness of which we have spoken in the- last chapter. 
There we considered consciousness in its nascency, in its becom- 



THE OPPOSITE OF UNCONSCIOUS MENTAL MODIFICATIONS. 269 

ing, here it signifies the rising into consciousness of modifica- 
tions already possessed of this quality, but at the time uncon- 
scious; it means, not a generation of consciousness, but merely 
a reproduction into conscious activity. It is, therefore, not con- 
sciousness as the opposite of consciousness not yet existing, 
but is the reproduction, the resuscitation, of mental modifica- 
tions already acquired, which before their revival were uncon- 
scious, or in a state of latency. 

We have already explained, in 12 and 13, how these states 
of excitation and quiescence are brought about. In order that 
a mental modification may be excited into consciousness, it 
is necessary that certain elements should be added to it, and 
in order that a mental modification thus excited should again 
sink into delitescence, it is necessary that it should lose 
some of these mobile elements. All this takes place accord- 
ing to the general law of diffusion or equalization of mobile 
elements, by which the latter, in all mental acts and processes, 
move from one modification to another until equilibrium is 
established. In the case of excitation certain elements join 
statical modifications which are thereby set vibrating, i. e., 
made conscious, while in the case of forgetting, a part of the 
exciting elements is transferred to other modifications, thus 
causing what originally was excited to settle down into qui- 
escence, i. e., to become unconscious. 

This perpetual alternation between excitation and deli- 
tescence takes place in children no less than in grown persons, 
even at a stage where consciousness, in the first sense, is still 
wanting in a perceptible degree. We see it clearly pronounced 
in the child's first unconscious actions or even reflex move- 
ments (89). But still both forms (the aggregate of similar 
vestiges, as well as the excitation of the same) must necessarily 
combine in order to produce consciousness in any sense, and 
this is the reason why for both forms the same appellation, 
"consciousness," is employed and so frequently used indiscrimi- 
nately. A psychical modification, if ever so multiple in its 
vestiges, nevertheless remains unconscious if it is not brought 
into a state of excitation or vibration ; and, on the other hand, 
in the earlier stage of life, the most excited psychical develop- 



270 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

ments remain unconscious (that is, unknown) until they have 
attained the necessary strength by a fusion of a sufficient 
number of similar vestiges. Adding to this that the element- 
ary vestiges (which, in fact, condition the development of con- 
sciousness in the first sense) are also the actual basis of any 
excitation, the intimate relation of both forms of consciousness 
becomes still more obvious, and it is no wonder that super- 
ficial observation has constantly confounded the two. From 
these remarks it will readily appear that acts of thinking 
must necessarily be of a slower process than mere recollec- 
tions, imaginations and the like. We read, for instance, a tale 
of fiction much more rapidly than a scientific essay, because 
concepts, the essential constituents of thoughts and judgments, 
consist of a far greater number of elementary vestiges, all of 
which have to be excited if they are to attain to a full and 
clear consciousness. Naturally this requires a longer time. 
It also explains, on the other hand, the greater clearness of 
consciousness which excitation produces, if the psychical 
modifications thus excited consist of a large amount of elemen- 
tary vestiges; as we may readily experience if we compare, for 
instance, the effect of a lecture upon us, to which we bring the 
requisite preliminary knowledge, with the effect of another, 
the fundamental concepts for which we have not acquired or 
are not yet in a sufficient degree of perfection. The first we 
understand clearly, the latter will cause in us the impression 
of obscurity. 

As, furthermore, excitation is caused not only by an addition 
of external stimuli, but also by the action of primitive forces 
(compare 13), it follows that there must be a difference in the 
character of these excitations. Compare, for instance, the exci- 
tation an immediate view of a fine scene has upon us, with 
a recollection of that scene afterward by an effort of the will. 
The first is abundant in external stimuli, and will therefore 
be fresh, vivid, stimulating, while the latter, although it may 
be clear, will nevertheless lack in this freshness and bear more 
the character of tension and steadiness. 

But why is it that some mental modifications seem doomed 
to apparent oblivion ? The next chapter may bring us some 
insight into this matter. 



the direction of the current of excitation. 271 

99. Direction in which the Current of Excitation 
(Reproduction) Proceeds. 

This is another important point we shall have to consider 
in connection with consciousness in the sense of excitation. I 
shall resort here in part to the language of my translator 
(Elements of Psychology, p. 196) : 

I am convinced that when I excite the notion of " hunter " 
in any one's consciousness, he will also think of "guu." A 
wild Indian, removed from all contact with civilized nations, 
would think of bow and arrow. 

If I mention the name of " Joseph " to any one acquainted 
with Bible history, he will think of the father Jacob, of Benja- 
min, of Egypt ; while one ignorant of the Biblical story might, 
perhaps, think of his own relative " Joseph," or of somebody 
living in his neighborhood having that name. 

If I mention the capital of Bavaria, " Munich," to a man of 
taste, he will certainly be reminded of the treasures of art 
existing there ; but the word will most likely only call up the 
notion " good beer " in one who is fond of that beverage. The 
word " Elbe " leads Bohemians to think of its surroundings in 
Bohemia, the Saxons of its surroundings in Saxony, the Prus- 
sians of its surroundings in Prussia, while the natives of Ham- 
burg most probably think directly of the harbor, the sea, etc. 

" Hamburg !" In the year 1842, when this word was men- 
tioned, everybody certainly thought of " great fire." At present, 
perhaps, it might suggest " many ships," at least it does in my 
case, and a merchant who has commercial relations with it 
will infallibly think of his house of business, etc., etc. 

Hence we see that in becoming conscious, different people, 
starting from the same ideas or notions, proceed in completely dif- 
ferent directions. What, it may be asked, is the rule by which 
this apparently undetermined direction is governed ? Let us 
examine the preceding examples a little more attentively. 

Why do we directly think of " gun " when the notion " hunter " 
is called up ? Because we originally perceived hunter and 
gun together, and have constantly thought of them together. 
Why does the Indian think of bow and arrow ? Because they 



272 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

always attained to consciousness together in his soul. This is 
equally true in other instances. Now we know from 38 thai 
groups and series of the most varied psychical modifications {notions, 
desires and feelings) are excited into consciousness either together or 
in immediate succession by mobile elements, and they are not only 
permeated by the latter, but also connected into a whole; for a 
part of these mobile elements become firmly attached to these modifi- 
cations, and, as it were, cement them to one another ; this (quasi 
net-like) union becomes more firm and intimate the oftener these 
different mental modifications are excited into consciousness in the 
same grouping or in the same consecution, so that we may be sure that 
the whole group or series will become conscious the moment any 
member of it does so. 

All depends, therefore, on this one circumstance, how often 
different mental modifications have been simultaneously con- 
scious ; that is, how intimate the connection between them has been 
rendered by the fixing of mobile elements. Hence, the reason why, 
in the year 1842, the thought of " Hamburg " was certain to 
suggest " great conflagration," was because, at that time, both 
notions were often thought of together, and hence their union 
became very intimate. A good many years, however, have 
passed since then. Even before the fire, as well as after it, we 
had very often thought of Hamburg in connection with " many 
ships, harbor," so that the latter association is, on the wmole, a 
firmer and more constant one than the former, which was 
swiftly and strongly made, and it has consequently become 
again the usual one. I can very well remember how, even in 
1842, the notion of Hamburg used constantly to call up the 
idea of " ships" in me; but it lost a good deal of its old force, 
because the notion of " awful conflagration " was at that time 
thrust so forcibly upon me. In the mind of a merchant con- 
nected with Hamburg, it is certain that at that time the no- 
tions " fire," " house of business," " loss," etc, contended for 
the mastery with all kinds of feeling until, at last more trust- 
worthy and assuring intelligence from that place caused " fire, 
loss," etc., to be forgotten, and left only the notions " Ham- 
burg" and "house of business " to remain in intimate and en- 
during connection. 



THE DIRECTION OF THE CURRENT OF EXCITATION. 273 

Hence we arrive at this very simple law : The excitement 
proceeds from a conscious psychical modification immediately to 
that other which now is most intimately connected with the former, 
or is one (united) with it. 

Hence, in the native of Dresden, the notion " country " im- 
mediately suggests the environs of Dresden, and not those of 
the Breslau district. Hence a soap-boiler, when he thinks of 
"soap," is put in mind at once of tallow, ashes, boiler, etc., 
whereas a washerwoman thinks of dirty linen, and so on. 

Those modifications are most immediately connected (united) 
in our soul which have not merely frequently co-existed in 
consciousness at an earlier period, but which, beside that, are 
constructed out of the same elements; e. g., the concepts "tree," 
" house," etc., consist of the same elements as the individual 
trees and houses that we have seen, to the exclusion of merely 
dissimilar elements of the single perceptions. The same holds 
good in speaking of higher concepts in relation to lower ones. 
(See 15 to 17.) This explains why, along with a perception, 
the homogeneous concept corresponding to it starts involuntar- 
ily into consciousness; and along with a lower concept the 
higher concept of like kind starts with it, and in consequence 
we are, so to say, everlastingly forming judgments (18). The 
number of judgments which we express in words is very 
small, but the process of judging is constantly going on in the 
soul in proportion as similarities have been intimately con- 
nected by mobile elements, and are now usually excited to- 
gether. (Compare 38.) 

One other remark may be added. I said above, that in 
1842 the notion of " Hamburg," though it suggested " fire," 
was yet constantly associated with that of " many ships," but 
the latter was at that time less strongly suggested; and in the 
merchant there can be no doubt that the notions of u house 
of business," " loss," etc., rose into consciousness in different 
degrees of force along with those of " conflagration," " ships." 

If I remind anyone acquainted with history of the Seven 
Years' War, the notion of " Frederick II" will, to a certainty, 
be in a moment associated with a number of others, as Ziethen, 
Keith, the Surprise at Hoclikirch, Daun, etc. ; but it is also cer- 



274 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

tain that all these conceptions are not equally vivid. Some are 
more, some less fully present in consciousness, while others are 
barely excited at all, forming by their semi-obscurity the ex- 
treme horizon, as it were, the limit between consciousness and 
its total absence. 

Hence the mobile elements, as it seems, are not transferred 
in their whole fulness to the individual psychical modification 
which is most intimately connected with (or one with) that 
modification from which the transference is made. No ! l%e 
mobile elements rather diffuse themselves over all the psycliical modi- 
fications connected with it (the waking notion), but in a higher or 
lower degree proportionate to the closer or looser connection subsist- 
ing between them. (Compare 33.) 

Thus may be explained the fact that some psychical modi- 
fications excite a good many others into consciousness, while 
others only excite a few. It all depends on whether they were 
formerly connected with many or few psychical modifications. 
Hence it is comprehensible that the intensity of their con- 
sciousness is very diverse, varying according as the mobile 
elements are transferred to them in a greater or less quantity, 
which transmission of mobile elements itself depends on the 
closer or looser connection existing between them, and thus a 
larger or smaller number of vestiges in the notions affected are 
excited. 

When the mobile elements are concentrated on a few modi- 
fications, the latter are naturally excited and rendered con- 
scious with extraordinary strength, whereas we find ourselves 
in a condition of distraction or confusion when those elements 
are diffused over too many mental modifications. 

Furthermore, we frequently meet w T ith people who ride a 
" hobby." You can scarcely approach them on any subject 
but their hobby will be ridden. Their favorite idea has gained 
such a strong hold in their minds, and such an extension over 
all their mental activities by its numerous vestiges and its 
numerous attachments with other mental modifications, that it 
everywhere lies open to excitation through almost any conver- 
sation, or springs into consciousness by its own force or near- 
ness to consciousness, where it attracts almost any kind of 



THE DIRECTION OF THE CURRENT OF EXCITATION. 275 

mobile elements. It lies, so to say, constantly on the verge or 
edge of consciousness (" an der Schwelle des Bewusstseins "), as 
it has been termed figuratively by Beneke and others. This 
shows itself especially strongly developed in persons suffering 
with monomania or fixed ideas. They may appear in all other 
respects perfectly rational, but almost any thought may excite 
into consciousness their one idea, which predominates over all 
by its strength and nearness to consciousness. On the other 
hand, it may and does happen that the connection with other 
mental modifications is broken by disease and the formation 
of new combinations. Former acquisitions may thereby be- 
come disconnected with the usual run of thought in after life; 
they appear extinguished from the mind to such a degree, 
that no effort of the will can resuscitate them into conscious- 
ness. This explains especially those cases where whole systems 
of languages, spoken in childhood, were completely forgotten 
until some extraordinary excitement would touch the old 
strings. (Compare 6.) 

There are still other seemingly puzzling facts that need ex- 
planation. For instance, the complete incapability, in some 
cases, of recalling what has been thought, spoken and acted 
during intoxication, fears, dreams, somnambulism, narcosis, 
insane paroxysms, etc., after these states have given way to 
normal consciousness. It appears almost as if in such cases 
two altogether different persons had been acting in the same 
organism. The recurrence of the same state again recalls 
clearly the thoughts and doings transacted in the first state. 
But even here the same law of reproduction governs all recol- 
lection : Only what has been closely connected by mobile elements 
into one whole during immediate presence or succession is capable 
of being reproduced at any other time. Now the cases referred to 
are all enacted on such a different basis from the natural state, 
and the transition of some of them into the normal waking state 
is so abrupt, that there exists either no connection at all between 
the two states, or the connection between the conscious ac- 
tivity in the two states is severed, and, consequently, a recall- 
ing of what has happened in such a state is impossible. Only 
where the transition state is gradual can the chain of con- 



27G COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

necting elements carry recollection out of a dream, or out of a 
state of somnambulism, etc., into the waking state of life. 

I have yet to speak of the different directions in which ex- 
citation proceeds during voluntary and involuntary reproductions. 

I want to have my room lighted. This wish will excite in 
me the means by which it can be done — either to open the 
shutters, or to light the gas, or to call a servant to do either 
the one or the other for me. These means, however, have 
previously always preceded the lighting of the room; that is, 
before this effect was produced, the one or the other of these 
means had to be applied. My consciousness, then, is excited 
backward, from the notion of an end to the means to secure 
this end. Why is this? Voluntary action is always produced 
by the transmission of primitive forces. In our case it is my 
wish or desire to have the room lighted. It is the primitive 
forces that strive for that end, because they were formerly 
modified by the stimuli now wanted, and therefore made pre- 
dominantly one with them; and this secures the excitation of 
those modifications which originally preceded the exciting wish. 

If, on the contrary, in learning a foreign language I excite 
with the foreign word the meaning in my own language, I 
gradually establish a connection between these two languages 
where the foreign word excites into consciousness the corre- 
sponding word in my native tongue. My consciousness is thus 
excited in the direction of what was excited always after the 
foreign word. By numerous excitations I gradually progress 
to such a degree that I am capable of reading understandingly 
a book written in that language ; that is to say, the connection 
between the expressions of the two languages becomes so inti- 
mate that the foreign always causes an involuntary reproduc- 
tion of my own, which in learning succeeded the foreign word. 
This connection remains, but it does not make me fit to speak 
or translate from my native language a single sentence cor- 
rectly into the foreign language, as this would again require 
new connections between the two languages. 

Thus we see that voluntary reproductions proceed backward 
to that which originally was combined most intimately with 
the primitive forces in the form of desires, while involuntary 



ATTENTION. — TACT. — PRODUCTIVE ACTIVITY. 277 

reproductions proceed forward to that which originally was 
combined most intimately as following. All of which proves 
that even here it is the same law that governs reproduction; 
namely, that what is most intimately combined, or is one in 
existence, will always be first aroused by the exciting elements. 

100. Attention. — Tact. — Productive Activity. 

This leads us next to a consideration of the term attention, 
which the old as well as the new physiological school of psy- 
chology use as if it needed no explanation. On the basis of 
what has been explained, we shall find no difficulty in giving 
a full analytical account of the mental process usually desig- 
nated by the term " attention." 

In the first place we must remember that even the most 
passive sensation requires active (conative) primitive forces to 
receive corresponding stimuli (4, 14). This is true even of the 
lowest sensations. Suppose one suffering with toothache be 
surprised by the arrival of a dear old friend whom he has not 
seen for many years. Where is the toothache ? As if by 
magic, it is forgotten. Although the irritation may still re- 
main, the new impression upon other percipient forces has 
suddenly called into consciousness another group of mental 
modifications, which group, by its powerful composition, at- 
tracts all the mobile elements for its own benefit ; that is to 
say, for its own excitation, thus withdrawing them from the 
former group connected with the irritation of the tooth, which 
is thereby set at rest. Even if single primitive forces should 
continue to be acted upon by the existing irritation of the 
tooth, the sensation of it will only be an elementary one, sim- 
ilar to the first sensations of a child's life. It will, in the pres- 
ence of the thousand-fold stronger modifications excited by 
the return of the friend, as regards its force of consciousness, 
sink down to comparative unconsciousness. We now properly 
say, he has forgotten his toothache and his attention is drawn 
in another direction. 

The same takes place when we are deeply engaged in a cer- 
tain train of thought, and still more so when fixed ideas pre- 



278 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

dominate in the mind. Usual impressions then pass by un- 
noticed. We pay no attention to them, we say. Although 
elementary sensations may be produced by these impressions, 
we do not become conscious of them. 

Thus excitation may produce consciousness in all degrees 
of strength and in an uninterrupted chain of gradation, from 
the faintest consciousness of an elementary sensation we do not 
notice, up to the highest clearness and strength of a perception 
or concept in which our whole energy centres upon a single 
sensory impression. We cannot make at any point or stage 
a distinct line of demarcation which would demonstrate a 
specific difference between the one or the other degree of excita- 
tion. It is a more or a less only. All depends on how many 
vestiges previously acquired become excited with the present im- 
pression. 

What we, therefore, style the degree of attention we pay to 
what occurs around us, is nothing more or less than the 
amount or number of vestiges previously acquired joining 
the excitation of the present impression. The greater the 
number drawn into the excitement, the more intense will 
be our attention; the less that become involved in it, the 
more superficial will it be. Hence, in order to secure the 
attention of an unscientific crowd, the popular lecturer must 
present his ideas in a language familiar to his hearers; that is, 
he must try to excite such mental modifications as really exist 
in the minds of his hearers, and only so far as he is capable 
of thoroughly rousing these vestiges into consciousness will he 
succeed in securing attention. 

"For we are more attentive when, along with a present im- 
pression, the vestiges previously acquired and of a like kind 
with it are excited in large numbers. We are less attentive 
when less of them are so aroused. To objects of which we do 
not possess any vestiges we can naturally show no attention, 
e. g., for a language unknown to us. In such a case the im- 
pressions are apprehended by mere unmodified primitive 
forces, along with which, of course, similar sounds in our mother 
tongue may be excited, but they are incapable of giving us 
any comprehension of the foreign language, because the sounds 



ATTENTION. TACT. PRODUCTIVE ACTIVITY. 279 

of the latter are not yet associated with the objects they repre- 
sent. In like manner, if we have sufficient vestiges within for 
comprehending an object, but the vestiges are not excited be- 
cause too many other modifications are aroused (so that the 
exciting elements are used before they reach them), we shall 
be completely unable to attend to the stimuli from that object. 
Consequently, attention is only intense when the mind is free -f~ 
from excitation of a different kind, and when the vestiges on 
which attention depends do not take up the impressions in a 
mere passive way, but actively (in an already excited condi- 
tion) meet them, and are, therefore, on the look-out for them." 
(Elements of Psychology, remark on p. 191.) This is what act- 
ually occurs in any process of the mind styled attention. Atten- 
tion is the arousing of vestiges previously acquired to assimilate a 
present impression. 

In some relation to this process stands what we call " tact." 
For consciousness in the sense of which we have spoken last 
(as the excitation of vestiges already acquired), bears a mighty 
influence also upon the improvement and further development 
of our interior being. From conscious modifications also can 
an excitation be transferred to the generation of action, of 
utterances, etc. ; and only conscious modifications can combine 
themselves in higher forms of intellectual development. It, 
hence, becomes clear that the effect, to a certain degree, must 
be the stronger and the more perfect, the clearer consciousness 
developes itself. I comprehend a philosophical problem only 
so far as I am in possession of the notions, concepts, etc., neces- 
sary thereto, and am able to reproduce them ; and I show 
favor or benevolence to a person only so far as the benevolent 
feelings I bear toward him are roused into consciousness. 
Yet, on the other hand, we notice also results which do not in 
a like manner depend upon the highest degree of excitation, 
but for which a less degree of consciousness is obviously more 
serviceable than a higher one. Anyone who is learning to 
play a musical instrument has to bring into consciousness 
every single act necessary thereto; that is, he has to acquire 
special knowledge of every single note and its meaning in re- 
gard to sound, of every single key or string to be touched, etc. 



280 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

For the expert player this would be an incumbrance decidedly 
marring the effect he wants to produce; because the excitation, 
if full for each single act, would require so many mobile ele- 
ments, that it would be impossible for him to excite the many 
different modifications in so short a time as is necessary for 
his present execution. For him, therefore, it is more service- 
able, even necessary, that of the acquired modifications only 
few of their vestiges be excited ; that they, so to say, be merely 
touched, in order to pass quickly through the necessary excite- 
ment and to leave room for others to be excited. 

It is similar to what we call " tact " (as fine tact of judgment, 
practical tact). The new psychology proves that this is not 
at all the result of a special innate talent, but that it is the pro- 
duct of the reproduction and activity of the series of merital 
modifications, which by former experiences have been acquired, 
and which now act as the basis upon which the present judg- 
ment is executed in full and clear consciousness. 

But these series of modifications are so numerous and follow 
each other so rapidly that they do not rise into full conscious- 
ness, because neither the quantum of mobile elements nor the 
time given would suffice to allow their full excitation. They 
are merely touched passingly, and this slight touching makes it 
possible to accomplish more in the same space of time than would 
be possible if every single modification had to be excited in all 
its numerous vestiges to its highest degree of consciousness. 

This takes place in a still higher degree during the process 
of productive (creative) mental activity, and it is the reason why 
all higher mental productions are effected more or less uncon- 
sciously. The many thousands of psychical acts required to 
perfect mental work do not and cannot be all developed in a 
like degree of consciousness. Nevertheless they must be excited 
sufficiently to be capable of forming the chain of reasoning 
from the first to the last link of the productive activity. 

In regard to what is called practical tact we have similar 
relations. Several series of means for the accomplishment of 
a certain end, with the possible effects of each single one, roll 
off in such rapid succession that we do not at all become fully 
conscious of the single links and relations of these series ; per- 



THE LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 281 

haps only one or the other link appears more marked, or we 
gain only a general impression of the whole. Of our reflection, 
of the reasons for our action in such a case, we cannot give a 
sufficient account. Yet, if these series are the products of cor- 
rect perceptions and observations, if they have been retained 
in perfect integrity, this rapid and, to a certain degree, uncon- 
scious mental operation will have the same effect as if each 
single link of the same series had been excited in slow succes- 
sion and to full consciousness. It is under these circumstances 
the different series of ends and means measure themselves, 
during their excitation, in regard to the strength of their com- 
bination (which depends upon a more or less multiplied 
observation), through which a more or less sure result is 
secured, and also in regard to the intensity of the interest 
combined with the different results. The strongest series will 
here, as anywhere, attract most of the mobile elements, and 
thereby be lifted into the foreground ; while that which is com- 
bined with the intensest interest will attract most of the cona- 
tive elements, and thus our action will be the same at last as 
if we had been prompted to it by the slowest and ripest con- 
scious deliberation. (Compare Beneke, "Die neue Psychologies 
p. 189, and his Psychologische Shizzen, Vol. II, p. 274.) 

101. The Laws of Association. 

We come now to consider the laws of association the old 
school of psychologists deemed necessary to construct, in order 
to find an explanation for the apparently wonderful freaks 
which the course of excitation frequently takes. They state 
that the different modifications are aroused : 

1. According to the law of simultaneity: for what we have 
seen, heard, etc., together, that we remember again together. 
Quite right ! hxit-^why ? 

2. According to the law of succession: for what we have 
perceived as immediately consecutive, we produce in conscious- 
ness in a like order. True ! but — why ? 

3. According to the law of similarity : for very often mental 
modifications arouse others resembling them. True again! 
but — why f 

19 



282 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

4. According to the law of contrast: for black frequently 
suggests white. Eight again ! but — why ? 

5. According to the law of locality : for when we think of 
the church, we usually think of the church-yard also. Correct! 
but — why ? 

6. According to the law of the relation between thing and 
quality: for when I think of a sphere the concept "round" 
is simultaneously suggested. Very true ! but — why ? 

7. According to the law of causal connection: for when I 
think of " fire " I frequently become conscious of the notions 
of its effects, " light and heat," or conversely. But — why ? 

All these "whys" to which we find no reply in the old 
theory, admit of a simple and easy answer, in accordance with 
the laws of the new psychology explained in 99. We proceed 
to prove this. 

1. Those things of which we are simultaneously conscious are al- 
ways permeated by mobile elements, and, since a portion of 
the latter remain attached to them, they are closely bound 
together (38). 

This connection is less perfect : 

2. In the case of succession, when, by the appropriation of mo- 
bile elements, only the end of the first grows on to the be- 
ginning of the second, and the end of that to the beginning 
of the third, mental modification, etc. Consequently, succes- 
sion is only a partial co-existence in time, though, when often 
repeated, it leads to a close connection. Sign and thing signi- 
fied, wdiich belong here, are usually very closely associated 
(38). 

3. The similar is a mixture of like and unlike parts. So far, 
however, as psychical forms resemble one another, they always 
fuse into one whole (9). Consequently, owing to the similarity 
of their parts, like in the soul must be awakened by like. 
Naturally the dissimilar parts in such modifications are also 
brought into consciousness, and, as a consequence, these 
modifications, otherwise alike, are now recognized as only 
similar. But while thus simultaneously co-existing, they are 
cemented to each other by the appropriation of mobile elements, 
so that afterward the similar is able to attain to consciousness 



THE LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 283 

from this fact of connection as well. Hence the excitation of 
the similar rests on the law of simultaneity in time. 

4. Nor is the case different as regards contrast. When am 
I able to say that two objects are contrasted ? When I have 
thought of them both together, and have impressed on my 
consciousness their greater or lesser differences. Consequently, 
the fact of their being simultaneously present to consciousness is 
the reason why mental modifications the most heterogeneous 
are interconnected by the retention of mobile elements. 
Afterward, if no other or stronger associations prevent it, 
they are restored to consciousness united. 

5. That which is connected in space is always perceived as 
something simultaneously or successively existing, and as 
such its parts must be connected with more or less firmness by 
the mobile elements. Exactly the same holds true of 

6. The relation between a thing and its quality, and also of 

7. The causal relation, and depends solely on a constant and 
unceasing succession of different effects as processes in the soul, 
and also for the most part in the external world (39). 

Hence all these so-called " laws of association " may be 
reduced to the one law — a complete simultaneity in time and a 
repeated sequence ; that is, an entire or partial simultaneity in 
consciousness ; and they must be so reduced, because experience 
shows that that which comes into consciousness at separate 
points of time is never associated. That alone which is excited 
at the same time can appropriate to itself a portion of the 
mobile elements and thus grow into a whole. 

Still, this would not explain why, when a number of mental 
modifications once conscious together are reproduced, the 
current of excitation should set from this particular modifica- 
tion toward that one, and not in some other direction (com- 
pare the examples in 99), if we did not know that the mobile 
elements are always immediately transferred from one mental modi- 
fication to that other which, at that time, is most intimately connected 
with it, or is one with it. 

The intensity of this connection depends, however, partly 
on the fact that mental modifications simultaneously in con- 
sciousness are repeatedly permeated by the mobile elements, and 



284 COMPLEMENTARY CNQUIRIES. 

partly on the greater or lesser fulness with which these elements 
are, as it were, shed over the modifications to be awakened. 
Experience, too, proves that the visible more easily excites the 
visible, the audible the audible, etc., than the visible does the 
audible, and conversely (all else being the same), which 
manner of action evidently depends on the greater original 
similarity and consequent closer connection subsisting between 
the primitive forces. 

Whether, then, in this or that case the law of similarity, or 
of contrast, or any other prevails, depends simply on the inten- 
sity of the connection subsisting between the different mental modi- 
fications. If we were accurately acquainted with the intensity 
of this connection in all cases, we should be able to invariably 
predict what mental modification would be aroused into con- 
sciousness by any other under any given combination of cir- 
cumstances. In our own case, and in that of others with 
whom we are well acquainted, we already, as a fact, know 
beforehand what the course of excitation will be. (Elements 
of Psychology, p. 202, etc.) 

102. Memory, Recollection, Imagination (" Einbildungs- 
vorstellungen "). 

We have already spoken about memory in 7, and shown 
that memory is not a special faculty aside and apart from the 
primitive forces, but that it consists simply and solely in the 
quality possesssed by the primitive forces of remaining more 
or less permanently in the definite change which the external 
stimuli have wrought in them. This memory is the founda- 
tion of all that is further developed as concepts, judgments, 
etc., groups, series, feelings of pleasure and pain, desires, repug- 
nancies, etc., and in it the mobile elements play a chief part as 
connecting elements. 

Most of the modifications which continue to exist in the 
mind are groups and series which have grown up out of con- 
nections established between the fundamental modifications, 
i. e.j such as first came into existence (as, for instance, the con- 
cept " tree " consists of several different perceptions, roots, 



MEMORY, RECOLLECTION, IMAGINATION. 285 

trunk, branches, etc.), which would not, it is true, vanish from 
the soul if that connection were broken, but would merely 
cease to exist as this particular concept. The case is just the 
same with the concept " house, man, garden, apple, table," etc. 
(See 38.) But of all fundamental, as well as of all derivative 
modifications, the law holds true that what has been once pro- 
duced in the soul with any degree of perfection continues to exist, 
even when it has ceased to he excited, and has, consequently, lost 
consciousness. That which w T as conscious merely becomes 
unconscious, or continues to exist in the substance of the soul 
as a "vestige" (6.) It has become u statical mind." This un- 
conscious continuance of what has once come into existence in the 
soul is memory. It cannot, therefore, be limited only to 
notions and concepts. Desires, volitions, feelings, etc., have 
their memories as well. It is natural that every modification 
should continue to exist more perfectly, in proportion to the 
vigor with which it was at first generated, and the oftener it 
has been recalled into consciousness and strengthened by repeti- 
tion. Hence, the perfection of memory depends on two 
circumstances : 

1st. On the perfection with which the psychical modifications 
were originally produced. The fundamental modifications (sen- 
sations and perceptions) will be less liable to be lost in propor- 
tion as the primitive forces are more vigorous (7), and in pro- 
portion as the external stimuli act with greater strength and 
fulness (11), (but this fulness must not be inordinate) (24); and 
the derivative forms will be more permanent in proportion as 
the elements combined are similar (38), and the more intimate 
the connection between them is rendered by the mobile elements 
(38). 

2d. On the strength infused by repetition into what already exists 
within. Here again two cases are to be distinguished. A modi- 
fication frequently repeated is either strengthened by fresh and 
homogeneous vestiges which are added to it (9), or the number 
of vestiges is not increased, but, on being repeatedly excited, 
they attract mobile elements and so become more perfect, which 
is also true of all other associations produced by the diffusion 
of mobile elements. 



28G COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

The latter mode by which mental modifications are strength- 
ened is particularly conspicuous in the process of learning 
anything by heart. Not only do the connecting vestiges in- 
crease, but the modifications so repeated themselves appro- 
priate a portion of the exciting elements, and, by so doing, 
grow, if the expression is allowable, in bulk, in space. The 
same occurs when we are in a state of expectancy, or anxiety, 
or in love, etc. We are then much teased by such matters, 
and, indeed, when any other state or act is reproduced (even 
where that act or state is attended by disgust). Furthermore, 
what people call favorite inclinations, hobbies, whims, etc., are 
modifications of a similar kind which have been strengthened 
by mobile elements. They are not merely very permanent in 
an unconscious form (in memory), but they are ready to spring 
into consciousness at the least provocation. From continually 
appropriating exciting elements they have acquired an extra- 
ordinary facility of becoming conscious — a great " nearness to con- 
sciousness. ,f 

Repetition, therefore, does two things, and these ought not 
to be confounded : Increase in the number of vestiges by ex- 
ternal elements strengthen the modification and increase 
its clearness; the appropriation of mere mobile elements 
strengthens and increases the readiness with which the modi- 
fication becomes conscious. An obscure notion, though re- 
peated internally many hundred times, does not become any 
clearer, it only gains in nearness to consciousness, and is more 
ready to start into consciousness. In the former case, the " in- 
crescive space " of the modification is increased by the addition 
of the same external stimuli from which it originally grew. 
In the latter, the " accrescive space," by the addition of internal 
mobile elements, which merely excited it into consciousness. 
We must always bear in mind that new vestiges can never be 
acquired by merely reproducing internally (re-exciting) men- 
tal modifications which have been engendered by external ob- 
jects. Connecting vestiges alone can be increased in this way. 
But, more than this : Acts of reproduction, suggested by some- 
thing external, yet not by the object itself, leave the original 
vestiges exactly where the new external excitant found them 



MEMORY, RECOLLECTION, IMAGINATION. 287 

— unaugmented. You may, for instance, remind me by words 
ever so often of a melody, but I shall not know it at all 
until I hear its notes. In like manner the number of vestiges 
in a concept, as " bird of prey/'' can be increased only if I 
actually perceive more birds of prey, so that the combination 
of similar elements previously obtained is enriched by actually 
new elements. This is true in all cases. Without another 
similar or analogous act there is no increase in the number of 
vestiges. But there would be no harm in regarding this 
strengthening of a psychical modification by means of the 
mobile elements as being, in a way, an increase in its vestiges, 
provided this particular species of vestiges were never con- 
founded with those properly so called. On the contrary, since 
we do and must speak of connecting vestiges, there are many 
cases, especially in the act of learning by heart, etc., in which 
it would not be improper to call these secondary vestiges, 
vestiges of reproduction, and so mark them off from the original 
vestiges which are the products of the direct action of external 
stimuli upon primitive forces. 

These vestiges of reproduction are obviously of great im- 
portance in strengthening our desires and repugnancies. 

From all this it follows that memory is not a special and innate 
faculty of the soul — able to exhibit a general and higher 
activity when generally exercised. On the contrary, every 
single mental modification has its own memory, and in a 
more perfect degree the more perfectly it was originally 
formed, and the more it has been strengthened by repetition. 

When, therefore, we ascribe to a man a greater or less per- 
fect memory, this must be understood as being true on an 
average of his primitive forces ; for in every soul, however 
perfect the soul may be, there are always modifications more 
or less imperfectly developed (resulting only from a few ves- 
tiges), and these vestiges are, consequently, deficient in the 
property of a " good and perfect memory." 

But is it not true that a man who knows German and Latin 
can very easily learn English ? If it were true it would seem 
that increased vigor of memory may be produced by the pro- 
cess of learning a number of words. Let us look more closely 
into the matter. 



288 COMPLEMENTARY ENQUIRIES. 

Consider the words, " der Vater, pater, the father; der 
Bruder, the brother, f rater ; Ich habe, I have, habeo ; em, one, 
unus; drei, three, tres; seeks, six, sex; zwblf, twelve, etc." 
There is obviously a remarkable similarity between these 
words and the resemblances are very extensive, because, as is 
well known, the English language is a product of German, 
Latin and French. • 

Now, if any one is well acquainted with the latter languages, 
it must follow that, in learning English, the similar words 
already existent in his mind must be called up into conscious- 
ness along with the new English w T ords. It is thus that the 
new finds a firm foundation in the old. Old acquaintances 
meet, and the vocabulary of the English language has not to 
be learned completely apart and from the beginning. The 
'pronunciation and other peculiarities are the only points for 
which a new and special consciousness has to be founded upon 
an assemblage of fresh vestiges. Hence w T e may certainly 
affirm that: Memory may be so exercised and improved as to be 
able with greater ease to apprehend and retain new impressions ; 
that is, so far as that which is already rooted in the soul is able to 
coalesce with the new apprehensions and be homogeneous ivith them, 
and is therefore capable of forming a constituent part of them. 
But only to that extent. 

Hence Ave may explain how it is possible for the botanist to 
apprehend and retain, with such marvelous accuracy, all that 
relates to his pet subject, and yet not be anything like so suc- 
cessful in other matters. Take the case of the so-called " living 
chronicle," the village or town-gossip, who carries about in 
his head and on the tip of his tongue every petty detail he 
has ever heard relating to every house, every family. Another 
man, endowed with far more vigorous primitive forces, w r ould 
possibly find it difficult to bear all these things in mind. The 
gossip finds no such difficulty, for the last piece of news meets 
with such a multitude of similar vestiges and modifications, 
that it becomes fixed without any exertion. Of course, the 
" interest " w T hich such people have in such matters plays a 
part; but that interest is, after all, nothing more than the 
larger number of vestiges which certain kinds of mental 



MEMORY, RECOLLECTION, IMAGINATION. 289 

modifications have attained in them. This case is, therefore, 
identical with the others mentioned above. 

But of what use are the strongest and clearest mental modi- 
fications if they remain permanently in a latent state, and can- 
not be called into consciousness, or, as we are accustomed to 
say, we cannot remember or recollect them ? Since there is 
a difference between rising into consciousness (being repro- 
duced) and recollecting, we must say a word or two concerning 
the latter. 

" I was a boy of eight or nine years of age when Napoleon 
led his soldiers to Russia. A division of his army passed 

through the little town N . The Guards formed part of it. 

I can see the bearded, bold fellows now. How self-confident 
they were ! In what upright, soldiery trim they marched 
along! In ranks of six men each they passed through. 
Regiment succeeded regiment. The houses trembled, the 
earth groaned under the mighty, strong tread. It was, indeed, 
an inspiring sight, and I think I shall never forget it, nor will 
my sister either. She and I peeped down into the street from 
a top window," etc., etc. 

Thus talks an eye-witness, and this much is clear from what 
he says : While telling his tale, a crowd of psychical modi- 
fications became successively conscious in his mind, and those 
modifications all belong to one another, because at a former 
period they were all excited at one and the same time ; or, 
more precisely, to the leading notion, "Passage of the Guard," 
are attached those modifications engendered by the circum- 
stances, the time, the place, etc., under which the main notion 
was formerly engendered. 

When repeating this narrative, not only the same series of 
modifications which were excited when I heard the story be- 
came successively conscious, but I also think of the person who 
told the story to me, and of the time, the place, manner, when, 
where and how he told me. 

When anything of this kind takes place in the soul, viz. : 
When the process of becoming conscious starts from some main or 
leading notion, and proceeds so far that the notions of circumstances, 
time, place, etc., under which we formed that mental modification, 



200 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

also become conscious with it (so that it is brought again into con- 
nection ivith our former life), we say we have a recollection. 

Recollection, then, is nothing but a continued process of 
becoming conscious; and as those modifications alone can 
attain to consciousness which have been fixed in the soul 
with sufficient strength, and by a sufficient number of ves- 
tiges, it is clear that perfect recollection 

Firstly, depends on the perfection of the memory. (See above.) 

It is useless to have the strongest mental modifications, 
composed of many vestiges, unless they are or can be excited 
into consciousness. This excitation into consciousness takes 
place by means of the mobile elements, and it takes place the 
more completely in proportion as the latter are abundant 
(98). Hence perfect recollection depends also 

Secondly, on the fulness of the mobile elements. 

It often happens that mobile elements are present in suffi- 
cient numbers, and also the mental modifications which might 
become conscious are in no wise deficient in the number of 
vestiges, yet the restoration to consciousness which we desire 
does not occur, or, at least, only with such slowness that when 
it does occur it is too late. (Compare 14.) Perfect restoration 
to consciousness, and consequently perfect recollection, re- 
quires 

Thirdly, in particular, a high degree of vivacity on the part of 
the primitive forces. 

What, then, is the faculty of recollection ? 

It is certainly not a special innate power. On the contrary, 
the phenomena of recollection are completely explained by the 
fact that mental modifications are permanent, and that they 
are rendered conscious by the mobile elements, according to 
a definite law (99). Man consequently does not possess a single 
faculty of recollection, but he has as many recollections as he 
has mental modifications capable of reproducing themselves as 
leading notions in company with those which are subsidiary 
to and allied to them. 

All those mental modifications which are excited or repro- 
duced purely from within, and not at any present moment 
from without, are called reproductions of the imagination, using 



MEMORY, RECOLLECTION, IMAGINATION. 291 

the term imagination in its widest sense. As produced from 
within, they become conscious afresh in the manner described 
in 99. They are not at all actually produced or formed for 
the first time. The expression, imagination (Einbildung — 
Innenbildung), dates from a time when psychology was in a 
very backward state, and the so-called " power of imagination " 
is generally synonymous with reproduction, or becoming 
conscious. 

Only in a very few cases do we know at what time and by 
what definite impressions these internally excited modifica- 
tions were originally formed or produced (as perceptions), and 
we are consequently unable to say which of the objects repre- 
sented by them were the first to produce an impression upon 
us, as when, for instance, we began to form the concept, house, 
tree, bush, water, beer, wine, etc. Innumerable objects of a like 
kind helped us to gain these perceptions, and the similarities 
in them soon coalesced into concepts; the consequence of which 
is that for the most part we reproduce these modifications in 
the concept-form, and especially so where the reproduction 
follows rapidly. It is at the same time true that all these re- 
productions of the imagination, supposing them not to have 
been elaborated into recollections (see above), bear, when they 
return unabbreviated and unchanged to consciousness, a 
stamp of generality, i. e., they are applicable indifferently to 
many objects of a similar kind, and hence are fitted to form 
constituent parts in distinct and new modifications we are 
prompted to form by external or internal stimuli. The conse- 
quence of this is that the new product is, in the main, formed 
out of old material. Hence the development of the soul de- 
pends, in a special manner, on the way in which these repro- 
ductions of the imagination are applied. 

When reproduced by the object which first caused them, or by 
one exactly like it, they give rise to perceptions ; when recalled 
to consciousness by something other than such an object, by a 
mere word (a word is, of course, never the thing or the object ? 
except in the case of learning a language), or by mobile 
elements, they remain mere concepts of the imagination or re- 
production. By merely connecting them with each other 



292 COMPLEMENTABY INQUIRIES. 

afresh we obtain all those new combinations (groups and 
series) which are produced in us when listening to a narrative, 
when reading a book, when being informed about some absent 
object, when reflecting on past events, etc. 

Imaginations, in the widest sense of the word, mean, there- 
fore, all mental modifications reproduced in consciousness by 
something else than what has first produced them, and differ 
completely from fancies ("Einbildungen"), by which, in com- 
mon parlance, are understood only such imaginary notions, 
feelings, judgments etc., as are false, i. e., contrary to facts. 
That it should be extremely difficult to figure to ourselves, 
w T ith perfect correctness, objects which we have never beheld, 
from a mere description of them, is natural, since nothing but 
actual perception can give the exact correlative and reality 
corresponding to a description. Hence every one, w T hen he at 
length gains sight of an object which he has frequently 
imagined to himself, says: "After all, I did not think it was 
exactly what I now behold." This is the reason why there 
neither are, nor can be, two men who represent God to them- 
selves in exactly the same manner. 

If we consider these reproductions of the imagination more 
closely, we find an important difference between them. Some 
return to consciousness in a dull, indifferent way, others with 
such freshness and vividness as if they had just been formed 
as perceptions. The latter class only, remarkable for their 
vivacity and freshness, are usually called reproductions of the 
imagination, in the narrow sense of the term. 

What is the cause of this freshness ? To a certain degree it 
depends, in the first place, on their original formation. The 
more lively the external stimuli acted when they were pro- 
duced, the more lively naturally will be their return to 
consciousness, provided they retain the fulness of their stimula- 
tion. Now, the appropriation of a higher degree of stimula- 
tion depends on the higher sensitivity of the primitive forces. 
Hence, a more than ordinary degree of sensitivity on their 
part is one condition upon which the formation of the 
imagination depends, in the narrower sense of the word. 

In cheerful company, when in the midst of fresh and 



MEMORY, RECOLLECTION, IMAGINATION. 293 

charming scenery, in joy and anger, etc., we feel that the re- 
productions in the imagination of modifications which even at 
other times are dull and sluggish (briefly, our ordinary ones), 
start forward with particular vivacity. Why? Because in 
such cases a considerable amount of mobile elements, especially 
of the external kind, are transferred to the old, sluggish modi- 
fications which the mobile elements receive from the fresh and 
livety perceptions then produced, or from violent emotions 
and inclinations (31). Accordingly, the reproductions of the 
imagination (in its narrower sense) depend also on the 
greater abundance of mobile stimuli (by which they are more 
fully excited). 

When such vivified modifications of the imagination, which 
are already to a greater or less degree connected with others, 
are led to enter into new groups and series, because the strong- 
est and most lively of them attract what is similar to them 
and bring them simultaneously into consciousness, the con- 
sequence is that the remainder lose their mobile elements, and, 
with the loss of mobile elements, the imaginative modifica- 
tions lose consciousness, and there arises what is called 
"fantasy " or the creative (productive) power of imagination. 

Every poem proves this. Can it be said that a new poem 
represents new mental modifications ? Not in the least. They 
are rather interconnected in subordination to one leading 
idea, the liveliest of them all, e. g., the idea of wine, love, 
harvest, etc., and in such a novel form that they assume a 
special relation to it, and so constitute a drinking-song, a love 
or harvest song, etc. Such a poem we call " original " and 
" clever," when the conceptions so connected represent a whole 
which has never existed in that precise shape, and which 
elevates and enlivens every reader capable of comprehending 
it. On the contrary, when this original element does not exist, 
we call it " flat," " insipid," " commonplace," etc. 

The epithet " creative " applies to " fantasy," not as regards 
the object (matter) which it represents, but only as respects 
the mode in which it combines mental modifications, i. e., only 
as respects the form. Fantasy, again, is not a special innate 
faculty of the soul. It can have no existence at all until lively 



294 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

modifications are obtained, and fantasy is itself different, accord- 
ingly as these modifications are different. That is the reason 
why a fantasy capable of great things in poetry may be quite 
powerless in music, in form and color, in architecture, etc. 
The exercise of the fantasy is impossible, unless the special 
mental modifications which it postulates have been produced 
in us by their appropriate objects. Every species of fantasy 
extends as far as there are modifications forth-coming to be 
combined in a novel manner, and it extends no further. The 
higher and more unusual activity of the imagination implies 
no other innate capacity on the part of the soul to which it 
belongs than a more than ordinary degree of receptivity on the 
part of its primitive forces. Given this unusual degree of re- 
ceptivity, all manifestations of fantasy may be perfectly 
explained by the law of the attraction of similars and by the 
laws regulating the genesis of consciousness. (Elements of 
Psychology, p. 215, etc.) 

103. Complete or Partial Quiescence in the Soul — 
Sleep, Dreams. 

Since every sensation or perception, etc., formed by the soul 
requires, in order to appropriate its stimulant, a primitive 
force (which is thereby rendered incapable of forming a second 
sensation, etc., 30); since, moreover, in the constant alterna- 
tion of consciousness, the mobile elements become more and 
more closely attached to mental modifications, and are so ren- 
dered incapable of producing farther excitation, it follows that 
every day a time must come when both kinds of elements are 
reduced to a minimum. 

The body is equally subjected to a continuous loss of its 
powders ; for its protoplasm and tissues are constantly undergo- 
ing change by the ceaseless activity of its various parts as an 
organized entity. Every voluntary or involuntary motion of 
the muscles, the action of the different glands, the working of 
the entire nervous system, is attended by a continuous retro- 
grade metamorphosis, which inevitably and at certain periods 
must result in exhaustion and, consequently, in the necessity 



QUIESCENCE IN THE SOUL — SLEEP, DREAMS. 295 

for reparation, if the entire body shall be preserved from 
destruction. 

Now we know that all primitive forces, as living forces, 
strive for compensation whenever they have sustained a loss, 
producing in this way those conative modifications which 
we call desires. (See 25, 26.) This same truth applies to 
the corporeal forces. Their waste, too, calls for repair, and the 
necessity manifests itself in that active assimilation of new 
material from the pabulum which has been prepared for their 
use by digestion. In quite the same way as the primitive forces, 
by loss of a certain amount of acquired external stimuli, turn 
into desires for the same or a similar excitation (25, 26), 
the corporeal forces strive after compensation whenever they 
have sustained the loss of bodily elements incident to the con- 
tinuous retrograde metamorphosis of corporeal forces, during 
active life — and then ive fall asleep. Sleep, then, consists of the 
predominating process of the assimilating activity of the corporeal 
forces, which is periodically necessitated whenever the primitive 
forces, mental or corporeal, have become exhausted by the performance 
of a certain amount of work. This is the essential nature of sleep. 

We find, therefore, as Durham has shown (The Physiology 
of Sleep, by Arthur Durham ; George Hospital Reports, 3d 
series, Vol. VI., 1860, p. 149), a physiological correspondence 
of accumulation of blood in the stomach and other abdominal 
viscera, proving a greater activity of the assimilating system; 
for wherever there is increased activity there is a greater 
afflux of blood. This predominating activity of the assimilat- 
ing process subdues all other activities. Mentally, we become 
unconscious, partly from actual want of exciting elements which 
have been used up during the waking state, and partly from 
the withdrawal of mobile elements by the predominating in- 
fluence of the assimilating activity. We find, therefore (physio- 
logically corresponding), less blood in the brain, as has been 
demonstrated by Hammond, Durham and others. Bodily, 
our voluntary muscles subside into inactivity, and the work 
done by the excretory organs is lessened in amount. We 
find, therefore (physiologically corresponding), respiration as 
well as circulation decidedly slower during healthy sleep than 
during waking life. 



29G COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

All this is the necessary consequence of the heightened 
activity within the assimilating system. All our activities can 
never be excited at the same time and to the same extent. We 
see this portrayed in the action of our mental life. Even dur- 
ing our waking hours, consciousness (excitation) belongs only 
to a very small number of our mental modifications at the 
same time, and never covers the entire amount of our mental 
possessions. While modifications of one kind are roused, others 
are dormant, and when the dormant ones are re-excited, the 
former active ones sink into delitescence. This is so through- 
out our entire organization. So long as our mental activities 
are predominantly active, the bodily assimilating system is 
at comparative rest ; but when the supply of forces which it 
had accumulated has been reduced by constant use, its orig- 
inal conative tendency for assimilation is roused again in such 
strength as to preponderate over all other activities, and sub- 
dues them to comparative rest. How great the strength of the 
desire for sleep is, we have all experienced. Even with the 
greatest effort we cannot keep awake when our forces are 
thoroughly exhausted. Soldiers have been found asleep on 
horseback during night marches, and it is said that on the 
retreat to Corunna whole batallions of infantry slept while in 
rapid march. (Hammond on Sleep, p. 14, etc.) The restora- 
tion of vital forces must be accomplished, and during the pro- 
cess of restoration other activities must partially or totally cease. 
It is, therefore, erroneous to say that " the state of comparative 
repose which attends upon this condition (sleep) allows the 
balance to be restored " (Hammond). In fact, this restoration, 
or more definitely expressed, this assimilating process, does 
not permit the accustomed activity of the mind, brain and 
other organs. 

Unconsciousness, therefore, is only a concomitant of sleep, and 
not sleep's essential nature, just as the comparative rest in the 
voluntary muscles and excretory organs is the natural con- 
sequence of the heightened activity of the assimilating system. 
Where there is less activity there will always be a less amount 
of blood and a less active circulation. To say now that the 
loss of consciousness, total or partial, during sleep is due to 



QUIESCENCE IN THE SOUL — SLEEP, DREAMS. 297 

the lessened circulation of blood, which actually has been 
observed during sleep, is to confound cause and effect, and 
is another sample of the incorrect way of reasoning so fre- 
quently indulged in when preconceived ideas are allowed to 
" tyrannize over the understanding." On the contrary, the 
truth is, that the comparative inactivity of the mind (in conse- 
quence of the inactivity of the brain conditioning the mind's 
activity) causes a less amount of circulation, and this less- 
ened circulation occurs not only within the brain, but in 
all organs where there is less activity, while the greater activity 
of the assimilating process summons a larger amount of blood 
toward the corresponding active organs. It will not do to oppose 
this truth by reminding us of the fact that an artificial inter- 
ruption or suppression of the circulation within the cranium, 
by a compression of the carotids, will cause unconsciousness. 
We have not stated that the circulation of blood is not required 
for the healthy functional operations of the brain, nor that a 
healthy brain is not a necessary condition for the operations 
of the mind. A certain amount of healthy blood within the 
brain is a necessary condition for its successful operation. But is 
condition a cause f Still, if a certain amount of opium, chloral, 
carbonic oxide, etc., causes stupor (unconsciousness), why shall we 
not likewise consider the lessened circulation of blood in the 
brain during sleep as the cause of unconsciousness ? Because 
we would not thereby explain at all the lessened afflux of 
blood to the brain. It would be an effect without a cause. 
We would still have to ask: "What lessens the circulation in 
the brain during sleep ?" We have stated the cause. It is the 
reduced activity of the brain, in consequence of the heightened 
activity of the assimilating system. The unconsciousness 
(stupor), following the use of the remedial agents mentioned 
above, is the consequence of a vitiated state of the blood, the 
vitiation that fluid has undergone rendering it unfit to sustain 
the necessary conditions requisite for successful operations of 
the mind (robs the mind of the conditions necessary for 
healthy action), and therefore we may consider these poison- 
ous agents as a cause of unconsciousness. 

Corroborating the above statement, there is still another 
20 



298 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

observation concerning the predominating activity of the 
assimilating system during sleep, given by Baron von Reichen- 
bach in his " Untersuchungen uber die Dynamite des Magnetis- 
mns, etc." (Braunschweig, 2d. ed., 1850, Vol. I, p. 199). He 
found by numerous experiments that the emanation of "Od" 
from the sinciput commenced to augment in force with the 
early dawn of the day almost evenly until 10 or 11 o'clock at 
night, when it gradually took a backward course and continued 
steadily to decrease in energy until, at about 4 or 5 o'clock next 
morning, it had arrived at its minimum, at which time it again 
commenced rising as on the morning before. The emanation 
of "Od," however, from the occiput kept its lowest degree 
evenly on through the whole day until 6 o'clock in the 
evening, when it commenced to augment in force, and continued 
to increase until 3 or 4 o'clock next morning, from which 
time again it sank down gradually until it reached its 
minimum about 7 or 8 o'clock a. m. 

This shows clearly the alternating predominance between 
mental working (day's activity) and corporeal assimilation 
(night's activity) — sleep. It might be well for physiologists 
to ascertain whether an increase of blood in the cerebellum 
at that time would confirm these observations of Reichenbach. 

The approach of sleep is favored by everything which either 
depresses mental life (cuts off the supply of exciting elements, 
especially fatiguing mental toil, and also listless reverie, want 
of external excitement), or which gives increased impetus to 
the bodily act of assimilation, such as superabundance of food, 
hot drinks, great bodily exhaustion, loss of blood, etc., etc. 
Excessive cold does not produce sleep, but causes stupor, like 
excessive heat In both the cited cases the effect produced is 
congestion of the brain, which renders that organ unfit to suc- 
cessfully carry on mental operations. 

If, on the contrary, by excessive mental strain (as we find it 
frequently with business men, eager students, or after great 
trials, sorrow, anxiety, night-watching, etc.) the assimilating 
process has been unduly restricted for a great length of time, 
sleeplessness is the natural result. Mental, and consequently 
cerebral activities, so overbalance the process of appropriation, 



QUIESCENCE IN THE SOUL — SLEEP, DREAMS. 299 

that the assimilating system at last becomes weakened and, 
losing its conative force, leaves the work undone it is destined 
to do. Necessarily such a state must prove destructive to the 
entire organism, and cause an overwrought condition of the 
brain (relaxed and enlarged bloodvessels), while the mental 
activities gradually confine themselves to fixed ideas or uncon- 
trollable combinations, until at last only an insane wreck of a 
once well-balanced constitution remains. But there are also a 
number of bodily causes which induce sleeplessness. They 
may all be summarized under one general head : Anything 
that interferes with the process of assimilation. The number of 
disorders interfering with the process of assimilation is large, 
and it is not my purpose to give a pathological specification of 
them. Most fevers do it. Coffee and tea, among the daily used 
beverages, can cause sleeplessness. Both have been physi- 
ologically proved to retard the process of waste and repair 
(Stoffwechsel). 

During sleep, however, perfect quietude does not always 
prevail in the soul, as is proved by the occurrence of the 
phenomena of dreaming. 

As a rule the mobile elements which cause excitation are 
not entirely consumed when sleep overtakes us, as is clear 
from the fact that we remain awake for a longer period when 
any subject particularly interests or worries us ; while, on the 
other hand, we easily fall asleep (e. g., in reading) when the 
subject of the book is not very entertaining, or when our 
primitive forces are but slightly excited by external objects in 
a dark and quiet room. 

Among the mental modifications which have been excited 
during the day, there are some which were oftener present 
to consciousness and for considerably longer periods than oth- 
ers, because they related to objects important to us. Hence, 
when sleep overtakes us they maintain a greater nearness to 
consciousness than others, and stand, so to say, on the verge 
of consciousness, and only require a slight impulse to make 
them again start up, so far as that is possible, in sleep, while all 
the rest of our mental modifications remain unexcited. The 
mobile elements, even in their diminished numbers, are sufii- 



300 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

cient to excite them, and thus we may explain why we so often 
continue in our dreams the occupations of the day. 

As at other times, the exciting elements may, by some exist- 
ing link of connection of earlier date, light upon and excite 
modifications of which we have not thought for a long time 
during our waking state. It is not at all wonderful that we 
then dream of things which were furthest from our waking 
thoughts. 

On the whole, most dreams remain obscure and indistinct 
processes, because our mental modifications, owing to the pau- 
city of exciting elements, only have some of their vestiges 
aroused. Hence, the consciousness of the ego is frequently 
absent in dreams. We do not become conscious that we are a 
totally different person from that which the cunning jugglery 
of dreams represents us to be. " In earlier days," says Dressier, 
"I have dreamt many a time, with anguish, that because of my 
ignorance I had been obliged to leave the University, return 
to school and begin anew. And yet it ought to have been 
very easy to scare this trouble away, if I had only said : ' You 
are the director of a teachers' college, and your real concrete 
self is totally different from that of a senior boy at a school.' 
This judgment, however, did not present itself to my con- 
sciousness, because the full and true notion of myself remained 
unexcited ; and it was necessarily unexcited, because the con- 
cept 'I' continued to sleep." 

There is nothing astonishing in the checkered confusion and 
extravagance which so often prevails in our dreams. Our men- 
tal modifications are connected in groups and series so com- 
prehensive and so extensive, that even in a waking condition 
they cannot be perfectly reproduced in their entirety. What 
must be the effect then, when, as is the case in sleep, the mobile 
elements are reduced in number, and the objective influence of 
external exciting stimuli, furnished by sight and hearing, is 
broken off? A group will be only partially excited, a series 
will be broken off when only half excited — it may be aroused 
by mobile elements at its beginning, presently at its end. 
How is it possible that the orderliness of w r aking consciousness 
— and only the clearly conscious can direct — should be pre- 



QUIESCENCE IN THE SOUL SLEEP, DREAMS. 301 

served ? It is possible also that such fragments may arise now 
in that series or group and then in another, and then there is 
no limit to the most extravagant confusion and combination 
of dreams. 

More order and more clearness is observable in dreams, 
when sleep, toward morning, has already produced such an 
abundance of fresh primitive forces, that external stimuli 
again find an easy reception; or when, shortly after falling 
asleep, there are still so many unexpended forces at hand, that 
the same effect may be produced without actually causing us 
to awake. At such times it is possible to suggest dreams to a 
sleeper. He may hear the sounds of an iEolian harp placed 
near the window, and be excited by it to visions of wondrous 
beauty; or may, as in the case mentioned in Du Prel's 'Philo- 
sophic der Mystik, p. 34, where, by allowing a few drops of 
water to fall upon the sleeper's lips, he would dream of swim- 
ming and execute actual swimming motions, and so on. For 
the production of such effects, of course, a peculiar sensitivity 
to external stimuli is a necessity. 

The receptivity of the higher senses falls to a minimum in 
the middle of the night. Sleep then is really sleep, id est, pre- 
dominating activity of the assimilating system. Dreams then 
bear frequently the character of the lower, animal senses, as the 
higher and more abstract modifications are generally but im- 
perfectly, or not at all, conscious in dreams, and therefore not 
able to correct or drive away false and immoral ideas, a fact 
expressed in the saying, " Conscience is asleep during dreams." 
Plato observed long ago that "good men permit themselves to 
do in dreams, and in dreams only, what bad men do when 
awake." Here also belongs the common expression, "I never 
even dreamt of such a thing." Consequently, dreams prove 
nothing for or against a man's moral character. 

If we fall asleep with a heart oppressed by care and anxiety, 
we need not wonder that w T e are visited by perturbed and 
painful dreams, for that which is out of tune can produce no 
pleasurable emotions. If we go to bed with an overloaded 
stomach, or if we lie in a position which prevents the free 
circulation of the blood in any part of the body, if we expe- 



302 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

rience any pressure or pain anywhere, these unpleasant sensa- 
tions will awaken what is allied to them in the soul, and dis- 
gusting or painful dreams will be the consequence. Even in 
sleep the law prevails that the similar attracts and excites the 
similar. 

That so long as the dream lasts we take our fancies for reali- 
ties, is quite natural. The realities which surround us are, in 
fact, blocked out, because the senses are closed, and as they no 
longer operate on external objects, any comparison between 
the external and the internal is impossible ; and if, when 
awake, we even fancy falsely, as every one knows we do, with- 
out perceiving our error, we need not wonder that our dream- 
ing fancies are not recognized as erroneous. That which is 
only obscurely conscious cannot possibly be corrected and 
brought into true light by the unconscious. It is only when 
fundamental modifications of our soul, sensorial perceptions, 
are brought into activity, that excitations can be compared 
with real objects, and thus be corrected if they should run 
astray in wild flight. Rational mental activity is always 
characterized by its strict correspondence to the real objects ; 
it is objectively true. Mere fancies are excluded by the exercise 
of the senses. During sleep the senses are closed, and fancies 
may reign supremely without the possibility of correction. 

There is still an important question to be answered : Why 
do we recollect some dreams and not others f 

Recollection, as we have seen in 102, is a continued process 
of becoming conscious. It starts from some main or leading 
mental modification and proceeds so far that the modifications 
of the circumstances, time, place, etc., under which we have 
formed that modification also become conscious with it, and 
is brought again into connection with a part of our former life. 
Recollection presupposes, therefore, a state of the mind thor- 
oughly similar to that in which the original modification (or 
group or series of modifications) was formed. It is, in fact, 
the renewal in consciousness of a part of our actual past life. 
Now, dreaming takes place during sleep, and sleep consists 
essentially in the predominant activity of the assimilating 
process. All mental evolutions, therefore, which take place 



QUIESCENCE IN THE SOUL SLEEP, DREAMS. 303 

during sleep are closely interwoven with this state of the body. 
In fact, they develop upon it as their very basis. It is the 
means by which the different mental modifications arise, are 
held together and are made one whole — a dream. Take away 
this basis, and you withdraw at once the connecting medium 
which binds the single items of the dream together ; without 
it they fall asunder, they lose their excitation, and all vanish 
like a dissolving view. A restoration of the same would be 
possible only if the self-same conditions under which the 
dream existed could be restored. With this restoration we 
would then dream the same dream over again, as often 
happens. 

Now, this change of state actually takes place when we sud- 
denly wake, because the predominant activity of the assimi- 
lating process is interrupted by the aroused activity of the 
higher senses. What during sleep has been the exciting and 
connecting means, no longer retains its excitation, and, conse- 
quently, w T hat we have dreamt we have forgotten. Somewhat 
similar instances of forgetting we frequently meet in cases of 
fever, mania, melancholy, somnambulism, magnetic sleep, 
drunkenness, etc. The same law governs the several conditions, 
and that law is : What has been excited into consciousness dur- 
ing, and by means of, a certain state of mind and body, loses its 
excitation, " falls to pieces,'' " cannot be recollected," when this 
particular complex of mental and bodily conditions gives way 
to an entirely different state of mind and body. 

But, then, how is it that we can recollect some dreams quite 
accurately ? If we observe closely, we will find that dreams 
we remember take place, usually, either at the commencement 
of sleep, or toward morning, when we gradually emerge from 
sound sleep into wakefulness. In both cases the opposite state 
is not entered completely at once. There is a continuous chain 
from the one to the other (by slight and gradual differences in 
the activity of the assimilating process and the activity of the 
senses), by means of which a connection is preserved between 
both opposite states, so that that which takes place in the one is 
carried over into the other. The awakening, in such a case, is not 
an abrupt change of the basis upon which the dream has been 



304 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

enacted. It is merely a gradual transition of one state into the 
other, and thus the dream (that is, those modifications which 
were aroused during sleep) is continued through this chain of 
imperceptible changes into the state of waking consciousness — 
we recollect the dream. But where the change of base is ab- 
rupt and absolute, there is no recollection of the dream. These 
points I may lay down as applicable to all usual dreams. 
There are on record, however, some remarkable and strange 
dreams, the truthful narration of which cannot be doubted, 
unless we also flippantly deny any other record that does not 
suit our present fancies. 

These particular dreams deserve closer attention than a 
mere denial and assertion that they are "humbugs," "super- 
stitions." While such things do not fit in commonplace skulls, 
in the thinking man they incite the suspicion that there 
may be something in special dreams transcending the capacity 
of the know-alls. We first meet dreams undoubtedly ex- 
cited by some sudden external stimuli, which dreams, never- 
theless, tell a long and strange tale, although the external 
cause of the dream and the awakening occur almost at the 
same moment. Examples may explain. I take from Du Prel's 
Philosophie der Mystik, p. 83, the following : " Gamier, in his 
Traite des Facultes de rAme, tells of Napoleon the First, who 
was asleep in his carriage when an infernal machine exploded 
under it. This sudden report excited in him a long dream, as 
if he were with his army on a transit over the Tagliamento, 
where he was received by the cannon of the Austrians, so that 
in suddenly jumping up and awaking, he cried out: "We 
are undermined ! " 

Bichers cites the dream of a man who was suddenly awak- 
ened by the report of a gun near by. He dreamt, in that 
moment, that he had become a soldier, had gone through un- 
told miseries, had deserted, had been caught again, tried, con- 
demned and shot. 

Steffens relates the following : I slept with my brother in 
one bed. In dreaming, I found myself in a narrow street, 
chased by a wild and strange beast. I could not call for help, 
and ran along the street. The animal came nearer and nearer. 



QUIESCENCE IN THE SOUL — SLEEP, DREAMS. 305 



p 



At last T reached a pair of stairs, and, exhausted from anguish 
and exertion, could not run any further. The beast got hold 
of me and bit me painfully in the side. This awakened me. 
It was my brother who had pinched me in the side." 

There are many more dreams on record, characterized by 
this same remarkable feature : The exciting cause, the dream, 
and the awakening occur nearly simultaneously. In such 
dreams a long series of events appear to transpire, which events 
correspond to, and finally culminate in, a catastrophe that 
turns out to be the cause of the dream, and also the cause of 
the awakening. Surety this is a peculiar combination; an ex- 
citing cause bringing forth an apparently preceding series of 
events, which culminates in an effect which, in reality, is the 
cause of it ; and all in an instant, because the exciting cause is 
also the cause of the awakening. How is this phenomenon to 
be explained ? In the first place, the supposition that the soul 
is capable of having but one thing in consciousness at a time 
is a falsity. We have spoken of this point in 98 and 99. We 
found that one single impression may cause, in an instant, 
the excitation of hundreds of mental modifications, even 
to such an extent that a great part of our life may 
turn in an eye-twinkling into consciousness, and pass in 
review before us. If we experience this in the midst of 
our waking life, why should it not occur in our sleep, and 
even in more fanciful ways, as the higher and controlling 
senses are shut off from the external realities of our environ- 
ment? The exciting cause will surely propel such modifica- 
tions into consciousness which are most similar and most inti- 
mately connected with it; therefore the same exciting cause 
would effect in different persons quite different dreams. The 
explosion of a bomb caused in Napoleon the instantaneous ex- 
citation into consciousness of a battle-field, and the thought of 
the springing of a mine. In the other man the report of a gun 
excited the modifications of a soldier's life, which, perhaps, 
never had been a pleasurable contemplation to him. The 
pinching in the side, by his brother, excited in the third case 
the modifications of being chased and bitten by an animal ; 
while in another the same cause might have provoked the 



30G COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

dream of a duel. The complications are unfathomable, because 
the combinations between man's mental modifications reach 
not only the accountable, but also the unaccountable. The 
preceding of the dream is merely apparent because it is instan- 
taneous with the exciting cause, and its clearness, composition 
and apparent length depend entirely upon the pre-existing 
strength, combination and number of mental modifications 
which, according to their similarity and connection, can, just 
by such an external excitation (cause), be roused into con- 
sciousness. The effect (dream) is, therefore, in each kind of 
dream, not before the exciting cause, but follows instantane- 
ously. Neither need there be a teleological contrivance in the 
nature of dreams, which manages to harmonize its contents 
with the exciting cause at the moment of awakening; nor 
need there be a clairvoyance of the soul, which, in its transcend- 
ental state, forsees the exciting cause and arranges the con- 
tents of the dream according to the following cause ; nor is it 
a mere chance that exists between the harmony of the exciting 
cause and the contents of the dream (compare Du Prel's 
Philosophie der Mystik, p. 91) ; but it is the natural excitation 
of mental modifications into consciousness, grounded upon 
unalterable laws, of which we have spoken above. 

There is another kind of dreams which announce a coming 
disease. Again I refer to Du Prel's Philosophie der Mystik; 
p. 164: 

" Galen tells us of a man who dreamt that one of his legs 
had become a stone, and a few days afterward the leg became 
paralyzed. 

"Macario dreamt of having a severe sore throat, of which, on 
getting awake, he felt nothing ; but a few hours afterward a 
severe tonsillitis developed itself. 

"Teste, minister under Louis Philippe, dreamt that he was 
struck with apoplexy, which, indeed, a few days afterward took 
place. 

" Arnold de Villanova dreamt that a black cat bit him on the 
foot. On the following day a cancerous ulcer made its appear- 
ance in the same spot. 

" Konrad Gessner dreamt that he had been bitten by a viper, 



QUIESCENCE IN THE SOUL — SLEEP, DREAMS. 307 

and a few days afterward a plague-boil developed on his chest, 
of which he died. 

" Krauss several times made the observation that dreams of 
operations on his teeth were the forerunners of violent tooth- 
ache ; and that dreams of bites of tigers or snakes foretold him 
the place on his body where, soon after, sores would break out. 

" The French physician, Virey, made the observation that 
dreams of red colors frequently preceded active hemorrhages, 
or dreams of inundations were the forerunners of succeeding 
lymphatic exudations, or dreams of conflagrations pronounced 
coming internal inflammations. 

" Carus refers to a man with a disposition to sudden fits of 
spasm of the chest, who regularly dreamt, before these attacks, 
that he was chased and bitten by cats ; while another dreamt 
of bulls coming toward him before severe spells of headache." 

Hahnemann, the founder of Homoeopathy, was aw T are of the 
importance of dreams in relation to disease, nearly a hundred 
years ago ; and in proving remedies on the healthy he laid as 
much stress on dreams, when they occurred during a proving, 
as on any other symptom caused by the drug ; and his real 
followers take notice of these " small voices of nature " up to 
this very day, in the treatment of diseased states of the body. 

Dreams, indeed, frequently announce a coming disorder, 
when for our ordinary perception it is yet imperceptible. We 
must not forget that even during sleep our entire being is not 
at rest. The assimilating, reconstructing process is then in its 
ascendancy and most vigorous activity. Where this process is 
not going on normally the hitch is felt, and arouses correspond- 
ing dream-visions, which, during the usual state of waking 
are rendered insensible and drowned in the predominating 
activity of the higher senses. These gentle admonitions, these 
first symptoms of a threatening disorder, never announce 
themselves in the concept-form of waking life, but are only 
capable of arousing into consciousness mental modifications 
similar to their nature — dream-visions; they express themselves 
figuratively. 

Such, prophetic dreams of coming disease are, therefore, not 
more wonderful than other dreams. Their origin is conditioned 



308 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

by the slight irritation an abnormal or mal-assimilation 
produces in the human organism, and thus causes an excita- 
tion of similar modifications, i. c, dream-visions, during the 
stillness of the night and the quietude of stronger mental forms. 

This process goes still further when the dream reveals to us 
the remedy that will cure tJte disorder. 

Again I shall cite cases I find in the very interesting work 
of Du Prel, "Die Philosophie der Mystik," p. 229 : 

" Bourdois, of the Medical Academy in Paris, narrates the 
following case: A man, during an attack of cholera, com- 
menced to talk deliriously, and Bourdois thought he heard the 
patient pronounce the word 'peach.' Regarding this as an in- 
stinctive desire of the patient, he at once ordered that such fruit 
be given to him. The patient ate it with great eagerness and 
wanted more. He ate some thirty peaches that night, and 
was well the next day. 

"Melanchthon was affected with a very painful inflammation 
of the eyes, which would not yield to any remedy. Then he 
dreamt that his physician prescribed for him euphrasia, by 
the application of which remedy he recovered. 

" An English colonel was stricken down with fever. During 
a sleepless night he had the vision of a venerable man, who told 
him to go to the yard toward the dawn of day and wash in 
cold water, to dry himself well and go to bed again. The 
colonel followed this advice and recovered." 

It is especially the arousing of conations, developed into 
consciousness by the want of certain stimuli, such as we daily 
find manifesting themselves in the form of hunger and thirst 
when the stomach needs a fresh supply of food, or in disease in 
the form of cravings for particular things. We must not forget 
that even the lowest senses, which have their substratum 
in the sympathetic nervous system (compare 72), develop 
into consciousness in the three different forms as the 
modifications of the higher senses do ; namely, as sensations 
(perceptions), conations and feelings. If, now, in disease a 
particular stimulus be wanting, and the desire for it be roused 
into consciousness, it is roused even more easily in a dreaming 
state, when other and stronger mental modifications are silent 



INTERNAL SENSES — INNER PERCEPTION. 309 

and the excitations of the higher senses are sliut off. A more 
complicated subject are dreams in which the dreamer prescribes 
for others, and also those in which future things have been revealed. 
AVe must, however, defer the consideration of this subject 
until we come to speak of somnambulism and similar states 
of the human soul. 

104. Consciousness of Psychological Processes which 
Depends on Special Concepts. — Internal Senses, 
Inner Perception, Self-Consciousness. 

Experience teaches universally that children do not know 
at first their own psychical acts, though nothing is nearer to 
them. Indeed, there are grown-up people enough, of whom 
the same may be asserted to a great extent. Their knowledge 
of what exists and goes on in the outer world is clear enough, 
but their own inner life and processes remain obscure to them 
and, in a great measure, totally unknown. 

There is, however, nothing in this fact of experience which 
ought to astonish us. All perceptions consist of modified 
primitive forces by corresponding external stimuli, that is, 
of subjective and objective elements, and one might suppose that 
the soul would at first perceive the subjective as a part of its 
own ; but it will be proved presently that such a perception 
requires concepts which can only arise at a later period. 

All souls, without exception, begin to develop by receiving 
external impressions, and thus form sensations and perceptions 
of the objects of the external world. These perceptions give 
birth to concepts, and the production of concepts presup- 
poses (as was explained in 15) that the internal mobile ele- 
ments awaken, along with the present sensation, the similar 
vestiges already acquired. Now, if sensations are sensa- 
tions only because the objective — the stimuli — occupy the 
larger share of consciousness, what must happen ? The mobile 
elements are more abundantly shed over the objective element; 
it attracts them with overwhelming force, and consequently 
the stimulant side in these psychical modifications is, and must 
be, more vividly conscious than the side of the primitive^ forces. 



310 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

From this it follows that subjective concepts, those which spring 
purely from the peculiar nature of the primitive forces, can- 
not at first come into existence at all. It is only w r hen, as 
development proceeds, we become, as it were, sated with 
stimuli, that these forms can be excited more strongly on 
the side of the primitive forces than on the other, and then 
only can that side be separately presented in consciousness. 

Notwithstanding, as objective concepts begin to be formed, 
consciousness is partially diverted toward the subjective side. 
Consider the following : 

The concept " stone," for example, contains less objectivity 
than the perception of an individual stone, for the former 
merely contains the similar constituent parts of the perceptions 
of stones from w T hich it was formed. The like is true of the 
concepts man, mountain, house, field, forest, etc., as contrasted 
with the perceptions of particular men, mountains, etc. In 
order to produce such concepts the soul necessarily exhibits 
greater independence and activity than is required to merely 
form perceptions, and by producing them it gets continually 
nearer to a concept of the subject. That the difference between 
such concepts and perceptions is, at first, but little noticed, is 
natural, since they are, as it were, concealed by the vivid con- 
sciousness of the w 7 ords by which they are designated, and also 
because w r e are obliged to give the same names to perceptions 
and to their corresponding concepts (see 16). The effect of 
these two circumstances is that concepts ripen into clearness 
slowly, and therefore we only arrive very gradually at a con- 
sciousness of the parts contained in our perceptions. 

We rise most effectually above mere sensory perceptions and, 
therefore, above the purely objective, by means of simple con- 
cepts which w T e gain gradually, i. e. f by those which involve 
only one mark or attribute, e. g., round, smooth, pointed, long, 
thin, little, etc. 

The perceptions from which these are gathered could never 
give rise to them at all if they w r ere all present to conscious- 
ness in their totality, only a fraction of them must be present. 
Take, for instance, the concept pointed. The objects from the 
preception of which this concept w T as abstracted, w T ere and are 



INTERNAL SENSES INNER PERCEPTION. 311 

much more than "pointed," they had and have a length, 
thickness, weight, color; the material of which they consist is 
hard, or soft, etc. All these qualities contained in the things 
themselves are also contained in our perceptions of them, and 
yet, in order to yield us the concept "pointed," all the qualities 
except the " point " must disappear from view. The mobile ele- 
ments which render the concept conscious must be concentrated 
solely on one, viz., " pointed," otherwise that simple concept 
could never be formed. 

Hence we find that in order to form concepts, our perceptions 
are not always reproduced side by side in their entirety, but mere 
fragments and fractions of them are presented to consciousness. 

The concept " perception " springs from a number of per- 
ceptions reproduced together and almost undivided, and the 
concepts "man, house, tree," etc., likewise ; but the concepts 
"over, there, out of, from, to, by," etc., since they are strictly 
simple concepts, can be produced by single fragments and 
fractions of perceptions. That this may and does happen is 
natural, because the mobile elements ebb away from points 
just now excited in the same quantity in which they are dif- 
fused over other points, or, it may be, over some single one. In 
such cases the perceptions are excited as regards a minimum 
of their contents (their primitive forces and stimulants), and 
the question arises whether the whole stimulant may not re- 
main unconscious, so that the relative primitive forces, from 
having the whole of the mobile elements concentrated on them, 
would alone be conscious, to the total exclusion, from con- 
sciousness, of the object. This process actually occurs in the 
formation of many concepts. 

Take the concept " to seeP It lies entirely in the sphere of 
the sensory forces ; but what it is that is seen, what the stimu- 
lants are, it does not indicate ; it presents a mere elementary 
act of the soul. Nor is the case different with the concepts "to 
hear, touch, taste, smell and feel." Under such circumstances 
we find the perceptions of the visible, audible, etc., brought 
before consciousness only on the subjective side, the side of 
the primitive forces. The stimuli are at best faintly indi- 
cated, and, as a rule, are completely excluded from conscious- 



312 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

ness. Since seeing, hearing, etc., are the first acts of a child's 
soul, it is not to be wondered at that the concepts of the same 
arise very early, although at first they are somewhat obscure, 
being produced by perceptions as yet poor in vestiges. More- 
over, seeing, hearing, etc., are acts which cannot be confounded 
so easily, and hence the psychical facts lying at the bottom of 
them cannot be well confounded either. Each primitive force 
always proclaims its specific character. In a similar manner 
all concepts of the subjective are produced, and they may 
gradually rise to a clearness as great as that possessed by per- 
ceptions of external objects, indeed, to greater clearness, for 
the spring and source of consciousness lies in the primitive 
forces rather than in external stimuli. 

To instance one or two more examples : Take the concept 
11 to desire or repel." It is not the stimuli, but the primitive 
forces directed to the stimuli, that desire and repel. This 
subjective community of quality coalesces when such concepts 
are formed, as soon as different desires and repulsions are repro- 
duced together, and the objective side becomes unconscious. 
The same takes place in the formation of the concepts "to feel 
(feeling), to judge (judgment), to infer (inference), to think 
(thought), to will (will)," etc. On a still higher level stand 
those concepts of the subjective which we call the clearness, 
vivacity, tenacity, obscurity, etc., of the soul's acts; for the 
production of these concepts requires that the primitive forces 
therein contained should only partially come into conscious- 
ness as a single distinguishing characteristic. 

Observe that there are actually in the soul vestiges which, 
to a certain extent, are again divested of their stimuli ; for con- 
cepts representing the subjective are composed of such vestiges. 
Moreover, these concepts are formed precisely as those of exter- 
nal objects (15), and their gradation is exactly similar (16). For 
instance, so soon as the concepts "perception, concept, feeling," 
etc., are produced, the points common to them all may 
coalesce and form the higher concept, " mental modification." 
The only thing peculiar to these concepts is that they are 
harder to form than the others, because, at first, the objective 
presses too strongly forward, and because our mental processes 



INTERNAL SENSES — INNER PERCEPTION. 313 

are not so permanent and fixed as are external objects affecting 
us. They, therefore, presuppose a careful attention to what 
passes within us, and what occurs there is of itself more or 
less conscious ; they presuppose that we take the trouble to 
bring simultaneously before consciousness what is allied. These 
general conditions for the formation of all concepts cannot be 
rigidly fulfilled in the present case, and that is the main 
reason why they are so difficult. But if we once succeed in 
our attempt, future success will be assured and easier, and then 
concepts of the subjective arise as surely and certainly as those 
derived from external objects. 

We know, from 17, the fact that (as well as the reason why) 
concepts are decidedly clearer notions than the perceptions 
which lie at the base of them, or than lower concepts. That 
which, ipse facto, involves consciousness (let us call such 
consciousness attributive or adjective) is strengthened and 
enlightened by the homogeneous concept added to it, exactly 
in proportion to the quantity of light possessed by that con- 
cept. Thus, for example, I have the concept "recollection." 
It will enable me clearly to recognize my particular acts of 
recollection (which, by their own consciousness, I should dis- 
tinguish from each other, or from similar acts, imperfectly or 
not at all), the moment I excite that concept into conscious- 
ness along with those acts (which excitation, for the most part, 
occurs spontaneously in accordance with the law of mutual 
attraction of similars). It is thus that the judgments arise: 
" this mental process is a recollection," " this a feeling," " this 
a desire," " this an act of the will," etc. Although we do not 
enunciate these judgments, we make them, and generally with 
such rapidity that there is no time to express them. In such 
cases, then, we have what may be called substantive (inde- 
pendently produced) consciousness (i. e., the concept) besides the 
adjectival consciousness (the concrete act). The latter kind is 
apprehended or apperceived by the former. It is, as it were, per- 
ceived through a magnifying glass. Hence it follows that it 
becomes an object as regards the concept apprehending it. The 
latter is like an internal eye apprehending this psychical ob- 
21 



314 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

ject; it is the percipient power of it, and hence we call such 
concepts internal senses. 
We thus prove that 

1. The internal senses (powers percipient of the mental and 
spiritual) are nothing more than those concepts which relate to the 
qualities, forms and relationships of the psychical act, and by which 
we first properly apprehend and perceive the interior of our soul. 

2. It cannot be said that we have only one internal sense. On 
the contrary, the senses are as numerous as the concepts we have ac- 
quired, in which the peculiarities of the psychical have been elaborated 
into any special form of consciousness. The old assumption that the 
internal sense is one and innate, is false. 

Hence, what we call internal perception, or inner sense, is 
the result of a special kind of consciousness formed in relation 
to our psychical acts, and out of them. If after this special 
consciousness has been formed, it remains unexcited because 
too much of the concrete is excited, then the activities of our 
soul proceed unperceived by us. This is especially the case 
when they are performed with great rapidity. 

The above-mentioned concepts are called the consciousness 
of the acts of the soul, in order to distinguish them from the 
proper or adjectival consciousness implied by, or rather con- 
tained in, our concrete psychical acts ; and inasmuch as 
these mental acts constitute our very self, we may properly call 
the consciousness of the same self -consciousness. Its acquisition, 
no doubt, causes some trouble at first, but that trouble is 
abundantly repaid. The concepts by which we apprehend 
our psychical actions lead to a kind of knowledge which ex- 
tends far beyond the truth and certainty of knowledge acquired 
through the senses. The senses merely perceive external things 
as they seem to be, that is, as our senses are capable of being 
affected by them, and if we had other senses, we should ap- 
prehend those things as possessing different qualities than we 
now apprehend in them. What things are in themselves, no 
sense can reveal to us ; for every sense stamps its own character 
on its stimuli, and it is natural that the products of external 
objects are, for the most part, totally different from their fac- 
tors. (Compare 40.) In the case of inner perception, however, 



ON THE EGO. 315 

what perceives (the concept) and what is perceived (the indi- 
vidual act or process) are completely alike so far as their 
subjective constituents go ; it is the same psychical modification f 
but multiplied, which, in the form of a concept, sheds its con- 
centrated consciousness upon the present single act. Notion 
and being are here absolutely coincident. The concrete act 
— the being — is not in any way altered or changed by the 
addition of its corresponding concept or notion. It receives 
nothing (except a greater amount of clearness of consciousness) 
but that which is already within it. Hence, in all psychical 
products, the factors producing them are preserved unchanged, 
for even the impresses of the external stimuli continue to exist 
in the concepts, judgments, acts of will, etc., in exactly the 
same manner in which they originally molded the primitive 
forces. Consequently, inner perception, or self-consciousness, 
furnishes us with a knowledge adequate to its objects, or which 
is fully and absolutely true — the highest knowledge to which 
man can attain. (Compare Beneke's work, "Die neue Psycho- 
logies pp. 54 and 99.) (From the Elements of Psychology, p. 221 
and following.) 

105. On the Ego. 

The treasures of a carefully developed soul are prodigious. 
The soul not only possesses innumerable single modifi- 
cations, but the acts and processes which take place within it 
are also infinitely numerous. Take the case of a man who is 
thoroughly acquainted with three, or even more, civilized 
languages, and who is, besides, a mathematician, a natural 
philosopher, a botanist, etc. He must know many thousands 
of words, which words imply the knowledge of thousands 
of notions constituting the meaning of the terms. Yet 
there is not a sign of confusion in all this marvelous com- 
plexity, a complexity existing without any local separation, 
without any local limitations. What is it that mainly 
creates and preserves this order ? The law of the attraction 
of like to like. Without this law there would be chaos. 
Now, of all that originates and takes place in the soul, this one 



316 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

feature is common to all : The moment it arises it belongs to this 
soul, whether it take its origin in the faculties of seeing, hearing, 
touch, taste, smell or feeling (vital senses)-; for all sensory faculties, 
together with the products springing from them, form one intimately 
connected whole or being. They are the soul. 

Consequently, the fact that they all belong to one and the 
same soul, or subject, will gradually shape itself into a special 
consciousness, i. e., a concept will arise, having for its content 
this one peculiarity : The belonging of all mental modifications and 
processes to one and the same soul. 

What is this concept called ? 

Before answering the question we must say a word or two 
more about what is called self-perception. 

In perceiving and representing ourselves, four kinds of 
things may be concerned, which ought not to be confounded. 
We think either : 

1. Of the whole man, consisting of soul and body, as when 
one says, I live, I dwell, at Leipzig; or, we think: 

2. Exclusively of the soul ; as when we say, I increase in 
knowledge, I am immortal ; or, we think : 

3. Mainly of acquired permanent qualities, by which we are 
distinguished both from others and from that which changes 
in ourselves, as when a man says, I am a musician, I am an 
astronomer ; or, we mean : 

4. Merely those activities of the soul which are, for the 
moment, the strongest in consciousness, as when we say, I am glad, 
I am angry. 

In all these cases it is not a concept that is directly con- 
cerned, but a perceptions; for when self is expressed, as it is in 
the above examples, it is not as a something universal and 
general, but as a something particular and concrete. Now, it 
would sound odd if a man were always to use his own name 
when speaking of himself. Civilized speech requires the 
pronoun " I " in such cases, and not Mr. So and So. It is a 
substitute for the name when speaking of the speaker. It, 
therefore, marks a definite person, either completely or par- 
tially. Children at first always use their own name, although 
they have heard the pronoun " I " a thousand times from the 



ON THE EGO. 317 

mouths of their parents. How is this fact to be explained ? 
Why do they always say : Charlie wants his dinner, Mary 
wants to play, and not I want my dinner, I want to play ? It 
cannot possibly have arisen from a defective vocabulary; it 
must have a deeper cause. In early childhood the concept "I" 
is obviously not present. Children's perception of self must be 
imperfect, for they do not yet know that they have a soul, and 
it is only the most obtrusive internal processes that are pre- 
sented to their consciousness. Being as yet completely the 
slaves of sensation, the only clear notion they have of them- 
selves is that of their bodies. Their inner selves are too 
unsteady as yet to become conscious, and that inner self exists, 
for the most part, in an obscure condition. In general, chil- 
dren regard themselves to-day as quite different from what 
they were yesterday, because to-day different groups of mental 
modifications are excited, and hence their emotions are dif- 
ferent. It can hardly have struck them yet, that everything 
in them belongs to one subject, to one and the same person ; 
but at length, toward the beginning of their third year, this 
unity begins to be presented clearly to consciousness, and then 
they cease to talk about Charlie, Mary, etc., and use the term 
" I." They have at length discovered in themselves the unity 
(not the identity) of that which perceives and of that which is 
perceived — that is to say, the connection of these two is one 
thing, and this fact they express by the concept "I," which 
results from their discovery. The concept " I " grows, therefore, 
out of many acts of self-perception. Perception of self must 
precede this concept, and the quicker the latter is produced, 
the quicker does the concept " I " come into existence. 

Moreover (as is equally clear), this concept remains con- 
stantly the same as to its contents, while the perception of self 
necessarily changes as the soul unfolds. We must, therefore, 
distinguish carefully bet ween self-perception, which consists of 
many concrete perceptions of ourselves, and the ego or I, 
which is a strictly simple concept, and, being one of the highest 
we possess, regularly attends the acts of self-perception. 

Accordingly, the concept of the ego, or I, is characterized as 
the union of all the perceptions which we make of ourselves. They 



318 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

all (those which perceive as well as those which are perceived) agree 
in this one particular: they all belong to one and the same 
being , constitute one and the same person — a unification which 
equally attaches to all other mental modifications, and which, there- 
fore, is gradually raised into consciousness, so that the belonging of 
all conscious modifications and processes to one and the same soul is 
stamped and expressed in the concept "I" 

It now hardly requires explanation why this concept obtains 
such strength and such a readiness to start into consciousness (in 
these respects it transcends all other mental modifications). 
At every step in the development of the soul it is increased 
by one vestige, since whatever passes in that soul proclaims 
itself as belonging to it. 

Moreover, it is clear that this particular concept never can 
attain to any sufficient completeness in the souls of brutes, be- 
cause their primitive forces lack in retentive power, and con- 
sequently animals are not even capable of forming a clear 
perception of self. Experience shows that complete idiots are 
unable to develop this extremely derivative and complex kind 
of consciousness, nor does the word " I " ever supply the miss- 
ing concept. It also shows how little the healthy human soul 
is destined to the sphere of animal propensities, since a child 
of two years old is able to abstract out of its as yet imperfect 
perceptions of self a concept which belongs to the highest 
sphere of mental development. 

Notwithstanding the great strength and the great nearness 
to consciousness which this concept in the course of mental 
development gradually attains, it nevertheless remains unex- 
cited on some occasions. For instance, when we are deeply 
absorbed in contemplating an object, and the exciting elements 
concentrate entirely upon those mental modifications which 
are the object of our thoughts, we are apt to forget ourselves 
entirely, to forget that it is we who are thinking and calculat- 
ing. Likewise the consciousness of the ego is notably absent 
in some dreams, where lively modifications are excited into 
consciousness by the law of similars, without a full excita- 
tion of the concept of the ego, so that we then are represented 
as somebody else, or only in part as ourselves. The same 



REASON AND RATIONALITY, OR CAPACITY FOR REASON. 319 

happens frequently in somnambulism, of which we shall have 
to speak more fully in a later part of this work. (From the 
Elements of Psychology, p. 228, etc.) 

106. Reason and Rationality, or Capacity for Reason. 

The external world contains nothing but objects and their 
activities. These two produce effects upon us so soon as we are 
born, and continue to do so as long as we live. Now, if we 
had in our souls nothing but modifications exactly correspond- 
ing to the things and effects thus produced, there would be 
nothing to astonish us in the phenomena of our psychical life. 
But we find within ourselves modifications of which the ex- 
ternal world offers only faint counterparts, and others to which 
the external world offers no counterpart whatever. To in- 
stance only a few : The external world (with the exception of 
man and brutes) has no perceptions, no concepts, no judg- 
ments, no inferences, no efforts like those of men, therefore 
no desires, no repugnancies, no will, no estimation of good and 
evil, no conscience, no morality, no religion. In short, the 
external world has none of those higher objects which rest 
upon man's transcendental ideas. That which the external 
world does not possess, it can never give. If it be objected 
that, at any rate, there are teachers capable of infusing all this 
into us, it may be answered that such a statement is worth- 
less ; for teachers, when all is said and done, can give us noth- 
ing but words (which differ in every language) and sense im- 
pressions like those produced by lifeless objects, and all these 
words and sense impressions are far from being the modifica- 
tions which we possess, and, what is more, consciously possess. 
Are the words or other effects produced by a man, so soon as 
they have left him, self-conscious elements, by which he trans- 
mits consciousness to us ? If so, a forest must have conscious- 
ness when it re-echoes to me my name, and the snail must 
forthwith know what I mean when I tell it to get out of the 
way. No! Self-consciousness lies only in the souls of men, 
and cannot travel out of them. The external world excites us, 
it is true, but excites us by elements in themselves spiritually 



320 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

and mentally dead. It is impossible by these external ele- 
ments to vivify the dead. That these elements create life, 
mental life in us, is a consequence solely of the primitive forces 
and laws innate in us, which primitive forces, however, at our 
birth, are widely different from the products afterward de- 
veloped from them. How are these products brought into 
existence ? The present treatise has striven to thoroughly and 
systematically answer this question, and, we hope, not with- 
out success. If any one, after mature consideration, does not 
find our explanations satisfactory, we must leave him to his 
own devices. 

Suffice it to say that the primitive forces are originally 
sentient only ; but by excitation and education they become 
consciously perceptive, attentive, understanding, judging, desidera- 
tive, averse, willing, feeling, etc. They thus attain to forms of 
development which are purely their own work, and rise above 
all that merely affects the senses or is material. They win an 
independence and freedom of the external world. The ex- 
ternal world is compelled to submit to the dictates of the mind 
so far as it is possible for human power to control nature. 
Everything thus developed normally in us, we call collectively 
by the title reason; that which deviates from it we call un- 
reasonable or contrary to reason. It is, however, the higher pro- 
ducts of our souls only that lie far removed from the region 
of the senses, and that we dignify by the name of rational. 
Hence, reason is and consists of the sum total of our highest 
faultlessly developed psychical modifications in all forms — in the 
form of concepts, conation, feeling, remembrance, attention, 
fancy, aesthetic creations, moral and religious feelings and 
actions, etc. 

Take the superstitious man, for example. He is justly 
stigmatized as " irrational," because he denies the truth of the 
higher concepts of cause and effect rigidly deduced from care- 
fully observed connections and reciprocal actions of things. 
In like manner he flies in the face of reason, who renders him- 
self a slave to excess, especially to the baser pleasures. Those 
desires and aversions alone which harmonize with the true 
gradation of good and evil (in other words, with their real 



REASON AND RATIONALITY, OR CAPACITY FOR REASON. 321 

value), deserve to be called rational. " Morally good " is an- 
other name for the same thing. 

Now it is self-evident that reason, thus understood, can- 
not be a single, innate power. So long as our original, 
simple sensations have not been worked up into higher and 
more complex forms, have not been elaborated in accordance 
with the laws of the soul, so long must reason be totally absent. 
Even supposing such higher forms have been acquired in cer- 
tain relations, a man must, nevertheless, be wanting in reason 
in all others where such have not yet been obtained. For in- 
stance, a person may be very rational in mathematics and des- 
titute of reason in music, and he who has a good deal of reason 
in matters of chemistry does not, on that account, have it also 
in philosophy, etc. 

Hence it logically follows, further, that reason is certainly 
not equal in all men. Eeason must differ in men accord- 
ingly as a favorable education has produced the higher modi- 
fications in one with more perfection than it has in another. 
Compare, in this respect, an educated man, from any civilized 
nation, with an Esquimaux or Hottentot chief who is reckoned 
among his countrymen as a man of superior knowledge. The 
difference between the two in the comparison is certainly 
obvious. 

This difference may be produced by two totally different 
causes. It may be that the innate tenacity or energy of the 
primitive forces is greater in the one than in the other, or it 
may be because the one lives under circumstances more favor- 
able to development than the other. Of course, the spontaneous 
activity of the soul must in itself produce higher forms out of 
lower ones, and yet the influences exercised by good teaching, 
by a suitable form of polity, by trade and intercourse, etc., 
must greatly assist in producing these results. All civilized 
nations are proud of their educational institutions because 
they are the means of promoting the development of the mind. 
Education enables us to stand on the shoulders of past ages. 
The Esquimaux, etc., if destitute of sufficient retentive power 
in his primitive forces, would not, even in the best schools, 
attain to a high degree of rational development. For the 



322 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

same reason we see scholars in one and the same class, and 
of the same age, attain to very different grades of mental 
development. 

In considering this subject in its various aspects we arrive 
perpetually at the same solution, and that solution is, that it is 
the innate energy of the primitive forces upon which alone 
depends the development not merely of the higher and highest 
mental modifications (the reason), but it also determines the de- 
gree to which that development can be carried. In the soul, 
as elsewhere, nothing valuable can be made out of that which 
is weak. Since, however, all healthy human souls, as com- 
pared with the souls of brutes, are endowed with greater energy, 
we may call this quality of the primitive forces potential 
reason, or a capacity for reason. Hence is it that reason is in- 
nate so far as that energy exists. We must, therefore, carefully 
distinguish the developed reason — reason proper — from innate 
reason. The latter is only the germ — the ability to become 
rational. It is identical with what we in a former passage 
called the mental or spiritual part of man's soul, and may be 
called its natural rationality. 

This property, however, of the primitive forces of man, is 
found mainly in the higher senses, in those of sight, hearing 
and touch, these being the chief sources of the human reason 
(8). If one or the other of these senses be wanting from birth, 
the absence of that sense necessarily makes a great difference 
in the development of the mind. It is a fact of experience, 
however, that persons born blind are not so backward, in point 
of intellectual development, as those who are born deaf. The 
reason is that the man born deaf cannot participate in the 
great advantages offered by verbal speech. He who can hear 
another speak is able to acquire the whole sum of mental 
treasures which thousands before and contemporaneously with 
him have gained. In like manner he is able — a matter of no 
less importance — to retain, with far greater perfection, groups 
and series of psychical modifications, by connecting them with 
words and sentences, than if the modifications were left to 
themselves, in which case they would soon fall asunder. If 
the latter happens, it becomes impossible to sublimate the 



INSTINCT. 323 

lower modifications into higher ones. Such, as a rule, is the 
case with those born deaf. The person born blind, moreover, 
can supply a good deal which the want of sight deprives him 
of, by reason of the sense of touch, as well as by other senses ; 
for, although the peculiarity of what is colored is unknown, 
the real and objective part of things is not unknown. Those 
unfortunates who are born both blind and deaf can only by 
the sense of touch acquire some mental development, and that 
development, of course, must necessarily be very limited. 

Eationality or reason, therefore, does not reside in a special 
power, as it were, in a corner of the human soul, from which it 
forces its way and gradually ennobles the remaining faculties. 
The very faculties we call senses are primitive forces capable of 
being molded by external impressions (5), and are at the same 
time spiritual and rational. There are in the human soul no 
primitive forces destitute of all rationality. Hence an infant's 
very first acts of sight, hearing, etc., are totalty different from 
those of a brute, and (be it well observed) even such acts of 
sensation are very early manifested in children in a manner 
quite differently from that observed in the case of the lower 
animals. The mentality of these acts peeps through at a very 
early period. 

Therefore, the mind and rationality of man is not a thing 
apart from his soul. It is the property of his primitive forces, 
leading to consciousness and to products unlike any evolved 
in a brute. These products, taken together, constitute the 
mind, in the narrow sense of that word, and hence the devel- 
oped reason, or reason proper. (From Elements of Psychology, 
p. 232, etc.). 

This subject, which is merely sketched in this paragraph, 
will be found thoroughly discussed in an essay by Dressier, 
"Das Wesen und die Bildung der menschlichen Vernunft" in 
Diesterweg's " Padagogischen Jahrbuche auf 1864." 

107. Instinct. 

The consideration of the highest forms of intellectual and 
moral soul-development naturally leads to a consideration 



324 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

of the other end of the sentient plane, where reason is entirely- 
absent, and yet work of intelligence is done even more 
perfectly in some instances than the highest understanding 
could devise. For this intelligent work, done without instruc- 
tion or practice, we use the word instinct. Instinct is derived 
from the Latin word instinguere, to instigate, to incite, mean- 
ing that there is an impulse of some kind which excites 
action for a certain purpose, of which purpose the individual, 
however, knows nothing. It is, according to Whately, "a 
blind tendency to some mode of action," or according to 
Sir Wm. Hamilton, " an agent which performs blindly and 
ignorantly a work of intelligence and knowledge." Do such 
statements tell us what that agent is, or from whence that 
"blind tendency" is derived? Even Charles Darwin avoids an 
answer by saying : " Every one understands what is meant 
when it is said that instinct impels the cuckoo to migrate and 
to lay her eggs in other birds' nests." (Origin of Species, 6th 
edit., p. 205.) The word instinct, then, is merely used as a 
convenient expression for a general idea of something which 
is remarkable, but cannot be further explained. 

From the standpoint of psychological research we cannot 
acquiesce in mere word-definitions. We must try to find out 
the nature, the essence, of this mysterious " agent " and 
" blind tendency." It lies not in the way of Darwin's re- 
searches to hunt after psychical causes. He wanted to 
demonstrate the physical or rather mechanical causes of the 
changes and evolutions in the physical word. However, 
physical (material) agents are not the only agencies that move 
the world. We shall speak of this fact more explicitly in 110. 
At present we will confine ourselves to the explanation of a 
"blind tendency." 

We have already shown in 89, by many examples, that there 
are unconscious sensations in man, as well as in animals. A 
sensation must be devoid of consciousness so long as it is defi- 
cient in a necessary number of vestiges, and will ever remain 
more or less so, if the primitive forces lack by nature a sufficient 
degree of energy (compare 9, 10) ; but this latter fact does not 
prevent the sensation from being set in motion by correspond- 



INSTINCT. 325 

ing external stimuli. This is seen clearly in the manifestations 
known as (so-called) reflex actions. An external stimulus 
causes sometimes a whole series of movements, all conformable 
to a certain purpose (89). This is a hint toward the direction 
in which we must search further for a solution of the question. 
The lowest senses (vital senses), which have their substratum 
in the sympathetic nervous system, develop consciousness in 
the lowest degree ; but sensations of this nervous system may, 
nevertheless, at times attain to an intensity which gives them 
actual preponderance over higher mental modifications (72). 
In the case of animals, in which the cerebro-spinal system only 
by slow degrees in the scale of creation attains to a comparative 
preponderance over the sympathetic system, the latter system 
must necessarily exercise a still greater influence upon the 
life-action of the animal. In such as have no cerebro-spinal 
system this life-action must be determined entirely by the 
ganglionic system, and, naturally, in a self-unconscious way. 
If we add to this a greater sensitivity of these lower senses 
toward the influence of surrounding nature, the impressions 
from which are forthwith converted into action, we may say that 
we are coming nearer and nearer to the solution of the question : 
Whence is this " blind tendency " derived ? We must, how- 
ever, bear in mind, that the lowest, the faintest degree of psy- 
chical development, is nevertheless ruled by the same psychical 
laws in both man and animal. External stimuli acting upon 
sentient forces will always produce sensations and conations, 
and in all shades of consciousness, from the yet unconscious to 
the clearest mental modifications, according to the greater or 
less degree of perfection with which the corresponding organ- 
ism is endowed. Reason, rationality, is attainable only by 
man through a long series of experiences, while the " blind 
tendency" is the ruling agent of animal life. "The animal is, 
indeed, only an organ of external nature." 

This is the more so the lower the animal is in the scale of 
creation, where the ganglionic system is not only the predomi- 
nating, but the only recipient and reactive means between its 
organism and the external world. Rising higher and higher in 
the animal scale, we find that a kind of conscious reflection 



32G COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

intermingles with this "blind tendency," by which meagre con- 
scious reflection, however, the animal is oftener misled in its 
undertakings than when alone led by its "blind tendency" or 
instinct. 

" It is instinct," says Dr. Joh. Mich. Leupoldt, in an excellent 
article in the Archiv fur den thierischen Magnetismus (1820, v. 
Eschenmayer, Kieser, and Nees v. Esenbeck, Vol., VII, 2d 
part, p. 72), " when some kind of shell-muscle, e.g., the mytilus 
edal., fastens itself by an artificial web to other objects ; when 
the spider prepares a net as its artful hunting-ground ; when 
the bee builds her cells, and the ants construct their dwellings 
at the right time, in the most suitable place and in the most 
expedient manner ; when the mole, the musk-rat, the beaver, 
and other animals, fit out their habitations in a manner which 
suggests ripe calculation as to the choice of location, construc- 
tion, building material and the warding off of danger. It is 
instinct when the weather-fish, the spider, the tree-frog, and 
some birds, give notice by some unmistakable signs of a coming 
change in the weather, often a day before it occurs, or forbode 
in summer the character of the coming winter, or vice versa, or 
sense, weeks before its coming, an impending earthquake or 
volcanic eruption. It is instinct when the sick animal in the 
wilderness finds and chooses the curative remedy ; when the 
migratory bird chooses the right time to leave his home for 
another region, and again returns at the proper time. 

" All these performances are the same everywhere and at all 
times. The hive-bee makes her cells in the same way to-day 
as she did thousands of years ago. The young insect, scarcely 
escaped from the shell, senses changes of the weather. Born 
in summer, the animal provides for the coming winter, which 
it never experienced before. All this proves that what we 
ascribe to instinct cannot possibly be traced back to a point 
where they were produced by previous experiences, nor to a 
conscious application of ends and means for certain actions. 
The nature of the more perfect classes of animals become the 
more prone to mistakes in their undertakings, the more they 
acquire, by training or otherwise, a kind of capability to 
compare and to choose ; while the lower animals, devoid of 
such psychic development, take an immediate part in the 
rhythmical processes of external nature w T hich stand in the 
most intimate relation to their existence. This necessitates 
on the side of the animal creation a specific receptive and a 
specific reactive capacity toward the stimuli of the external 
world; and that such capacities exist is proved by the fact that 



INSTINCT. 327 

light affects the eyes, sound the ears; that one animal seeks 
one kind of food and another another kind, and under different 
conditions of its organic states prefers this or that kind. 
There is no reaction without a reception of stimuli, and again 
there stand, sd long as life runs on normally, stimulus and 
reaction, both in quantity and in quality, in direct proportion 
to each other ; the latter, however, only in such animal organi- 
zations w r hich are incapable of any free self-determination ; and 
only of such can we speak where w T e want to find out the nature 
of instinct. 

" We must, however, consider yet the greater and lesser re- 
ceptivity (sensitivity) and its greater or lesser extensity. Here- 
in lies the main point: First, we remark that in the sphere of 
organic beings to whom instinct is attributed, the cosmic in- 
fluences are the most potent of all. What we understand 
commonly by cosmic influences are products of the reciprocal 
action between earth, moon and sun; and again, many facts 
show that influences directly from the sun correspond espe- 
cially to the cerebral influences, from the moon to the spinal, 
and terrestrial influences to the abdominal nervous system. 
As now in those animals in which instinct only is found the 
abdominal nervous system is well developed (and in many 
even that not fully), while the spinal and cerebral are yet in an 
imperfect state or entirely wanting, it is clear that the greatest 
power over them must be exercised by terrestrial influences. 
These influences relate, in the main, to the habitation, self-sus- 
tenance in general, and nutrition of the individual in parti- 
cular, and the propagation of the species. 

" Now, as regards the greater or less receptivity, it is un- 
doubtedly true that the higher a being is individualized, the 
less does its whole life take immediate part in cosmic pro- 
cesses ; the more it is connected with the same only by special 
organs, the more predominant is its relation only to higher 
influences. Man has at best only in a large cicatrix, or 
otherwise depotentized part of his body, a weather-prophet. 
Woman has naturally more intuitive power, and her menstrual 
periods show her subjection to the immediate control of 
nature. The clearer the self-consciousness, the stronger the 
self-determination in a healthy man, the more independent 
is his life against all physical influences ; while, on the con- 
trary, a decrease in this oneness of his being in consciousness 
makes him more susceptible to these cosmic influences. 

" The same is true as regards the descending scale of animal 
organization. The reason is here still more evident. For the 
lower the individualization of a being, the greater is the homo- 



328 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

geneity of its body (even as regards its material) with the earth 
as a whole; the more similar the beings, the more intimate is 
their reciprocal relation, i. e. t the more delicate is the recep- 
tivity of the one for the influences of the other. As more per- 
fect organisms have special organs (sense-organs) for varied 
influences necessary to their life, and as they bring the percep- 
tions of these influences in relation to the totality of their lives, 
so do, in lower organizations, the different influences concen- 
trate in one common or radical sense, and act there with imme- 
diate determination upon that organization ; i. e., they produce 
there a necessary reaction, or coerce it to certain actions. 

"As, furthermore, every process in living nature runs its 
course steadily and uninterruptedly, beginning slowly and 
faintly until it reaches its height, and then passes off again as 
slowly, it is clear that an organization with a delicate recep- 
tivity for such changes will perceive this change already in its 
first stages, while another organization, less receptive, will not 
notice it until it is at its height. What does this mean ? It 
means that some organizations sense early changes in nature, 
which changes, to others under the same conditions, still lie in 
the future. For instance, a weak and delicate person may feel 
the approach of a thunderstorm early in the morning, when 
the sky is still clear and serene, while a stronger frame would 
not feel anything of its coming until it is nearly at hand, late 
in the afternoon or evening. 

" What, in the case cited, is a seeming anticipation of time, 
is also applicable to space. The finer ear hears not only a 
sound in near proximity clearer and more perfectly than a 
duller ear, but perceives a sound from a distance, wmich 
for the latter does not exist at all. There is, then, for a finer 
receptive organization, a sensing of actual processes at a dis- 
tance, in time as well as in space, which a duller receptivity 
perceives only at the moment of their greatest influence, and 
in loco where they take place. If, now, cosmic, and espe- 
cially terrestrial, influences are sensed by organic beings to 
whom we cannot properly attribute consciousness, and who 
are used by external nature as mere organs, it follows that 
the relations of space and time measure themselves on and 
through the same, and that their actions may appear to man 
divinatory." 

To this exposition of the nature of instinct by Dr. Leupoldt, 
it will also be well to add w T hat has been said later, from a 
purely physiological basis, in explanation of instinct. The best 
views I know of are advanced by Prof. Ewald Hering and 



INSTINCT. 329 

Mr. Samuel Butler. The latter has translated Hering's lecture 
on this subject, and inserted it in his book on " Unconscious 
Memory," p. 97 (London, 1880). 

Professor Hering starts from the proposition " that we owe 
to memory almost all that we either have or are ; that our 
ideas and conceptions are its work, and that our every per- 
ception, thought and movement is derived from this source. 
Memory collects the countless phenomena of our existence 
into a single whole, and as our bodies would be scattered 
into the dust of their component atoms if they were not held 
together by the attraction of matter, so our consciousness 
would be broken up into as many fragments as we had lived 
seconds but for the binding and unifying force of memory " 
(p. 115). Further: " We have ample evidence of the fact that 
characteristics of an organism may descend to offspring which 
the organism did not inherit, but which it acquired owing to 
the special circumstances under which it lived; and that, in 
consequence, every organism imparts to the germ that issues 
from it a small heritage of acquisition which it has added 
during its own lifetime to the gross inheritance of its race " 
(p. 118). 

'• When an action, through long habit or continual practice, 
has become so much a second nature to an organization that 
its effects will penetrate, though ever so faintly, into the germ 
that lies within it ; and when this last comes to find itself in a 
new sphere, to extend itself, and to develop into a new creature 
(the individual parts of which are still always the creature 
itself and flesh of its flesh, so that what is reproduced is the 
same being as that in company with which the germ once 
lived, and of which it was once actually a part) — all this is as 
wonderful as when a gray-haired man remembers the events 
of his own childhood ; but it is not more so " (p. 123). 

"But if the substance of the germ can reproduce character- 
istics acquired by the parent during its single life, how 
much more will it be able to reproduce those that were con- 
genital to the parent, and which have happened through 
countless generations to the organized matter of which the 
germ of to-day is a fragment? We cannot wonder that action 
already taken on innumerable past occasions by organized 
matter, is more deeply impressed upon the recollection of the 
germ to which it gives rise than action taken once only during 
a single lifetime. We must bear in mind that every organized 
being now in existence represents the last link of an incon- 
ceivably long series of organisms, which come down in a direct 

22 



330 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

line of descent, and of which each has inherited a part of the 
acquired characteristics of its predecessor" (p. 124). 

''An organized being, therefore, stands before us as a product 
of the unconscious memory of organized matter, which, ever 
increasing and ever dividing itself, ever assimilating new 
matter and returning it in changed shape to the inorganic 
world, ever receiving some new thing into its memory, and 
transmitting its acquisitions by way of reproduction, grows 
continually richer and richer the longer it lives" (p. 125). 

" The memory of organized substance displays itself in the 
case of a chicken in the most surprising fashion. The gentle 
stimulus of light proceeding from the grain that effects the 
retina of the chicken, gives occasion for the reproduction of a 
many-linked chain of sensations, perceptions and emotions, 
which were never yet brought together in the case of the in- 
dividual before us. We are accustomed to regard these sur- 
prising performances of animals as manifestations of what we 
call instinct, and the mysticism of natural philosophy has ever 
shown a predilection for this theme ; but if we regard instinct 
as the outcome of the memory or reproductive power of 
organized substance, and if we ascribe a memory to the race, 
as we already ascribe it to the individual, then instinct be- 
comes at once intelligible, and the physiologist at the same 
time finds a point of contact which will bring it into con- 
nection with the great series of facts indicated above as pheno- 
mena of the reproductive faculty. Here, then, we have a 
physical explanation which has not, indeed, been given yet, 
but the time for which appears to be rapidly approaching. 

" When, in accordance with its instinct, the caterpillar be- 
comes a chrysalis, or the bird builds its nest, or the bee its 
cell, these creatures act consciously, and not as blind machines. 
They know how to vary their proceedings within certain limits 
in conformity with altered circumstances, and they are thus 
liable to make mistakes. They feel pleasure when their work 
advances, and pain if it is hindered ; they learn by the ex- 
perience thus acquired, and build on a second occasion better 
than on the first ; but that even in the outset they hit so readily 
upon the most judicious way of achieving their purpose, and 
that their movements adapt themselves so admirably and 
automatically to the end they have in view — surely this is 
owing to the inherited acquisitions of the memory of their 
nerve-substance, which requires but a touch and it will fall at 
once to the most appropriate kind of activity, thinking always, 
and directly, of whatever it is that may be wanted " (p. 128). 

" He who marvels at the skill with which the spider weaves 



INSTINCT. 331 

her web should bear in mind that she did not learn her art 
all of a sudden, but that innumerable generations of spiders 
acquired it toilsomely and step by step — this being about all 
that, as a general rule, they did acquire. Man took to bows 
and arrows if his nets failed him — the spider starved. Thus 
we see the body and — what most concerns us — the whole 
nervous system of the new-born animal constructed before- 
hand, and, as it were, ready attuned for intercourse with the 
outside world in which it is about to play its part, by means of 
its tendency to respond to external stimuli in the same manner 
as it has often heretofore responded in the persons of its an- 
cestors" (p. 129). 

Mr. Samuel Butler advances the same ideas some years later, 
and although entirely independently of Prof. Hering, yet so 
remarkably conforming to the same, that he says in his book 
on " Unconscious Memory " p. 82, where he gives an intro- 
duction to Prof. Hering's lecture : " Concerning the identity 
of the main idea put forward in ' Life and Habit ' [another 
most interesting work of the same author — Ed.] with that of 
Prof. Hering's lecture, there can hardly, I think, be two 
opinions." I need, therefore, not quote specially from " Life 
and Habit." 

Comparing these two views on the nature of instinct, we find 
that Dr. Leupoldt lays the main stress on the intimate relation 
of the creature with, and its dependence upon, surrounding 
nature, of which it is, so to say, a mere organ, and therefore 
fitted out with corresponding receptivities for her most delicate 
influences. This describes, no doubt, a most important agent 
in the phenomena of instinct, but does not explain the readi- 
ness with which instinctive action can be so perfectly per- 
formed without any previous experience, as is shown, for 
instance, in the case of the chicken and other animals, when 
they exhibit at once actions, and complicated actions at that, 
as if they had been accustomed to perform them for a long 
time. 

Now here Hering and Butler step in and say : " Indeed, 
they have been accustomed to all these actions, and for count- 
less generations, when they, as parts and portions of their an- 
cestors, were practicing these arts which astonish us now. For 
in the germ from which they evolved lay all these arts as un- 



332 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

conscious memory, and this memory not only shapes and 
builds their bodies with fitting organs, but which also knows 
how to use these organs as of old for specific actions, whenever 
external stimuli excite the same into corresponding vibrations." 
We cannot but admit that this view would solve the occult 
nature of instinct, if a " specific kind of material constitution" 
as Hering says, were an adequate explanation of psychic action 
and development, whether conscious or unconscious. The 
simile which Professor Hering uses in order to make his as- 
sumption of a "specific kind of material constitution " plausible, 
is neither convincing nor satisfactory, for it fails to bridge over 
the gap that exists between material and psychic development. 
He says : " The curves and surfaces which the mathematician 
conceives, or finds conceivable, are more varied and infinite 
than the forms of animal life. Let us suppose an infinitely 
small segment to be taken from every possible curve; each 
one of these will appear as like every other as one germ is to 
another, yet the whole of every curve lies dormant, as it were, 
in each of them, and if the mathematician chooses to develop 
it, it will take the path indicated by the elements of each seg- 
ment" (p. 121). 

This is true as far as it relates to curves ; but each segment, 
if developed, will produce only a curve and nothing else, 
nothing that is absolutely different and sui generis from the 
segment, in a sense as psychic modifications (conscious or 
unconscious) differ from nerve-cells and external stimuli. We 
have spoken of this difference already in the physiological 
part of this work, and shall speak of it again in 110. A spe- 
cific kind of material constitution might explain a specific kind 
of material development ; but it falls far short of the mark 
when applied to psychical development, simply because no 
amount of " an infinitely small change of position on the part of 
a point, or in the relation of the parts of a segment' of a curve to 
one another," nor, as we might add, any combination or shift- 
ing of material atoms or molecules, will ever produce anything 
like a sensation or perception, etc. The two are not commen- 
surable. Psychic development requires different kinds of 
forces, in which the development into conscious modifications 



INSTINCT. 333 

is just as inherent as the development into space-occupying 
formations is inherent in all material forces. Where both 
kinds of forces are united we find vital manifestations, a 
shaping, molding and handling of the material forces to 
purposive ends. In the psychic forces lies the potentiality for 
purposive action. Without them life is an enigma. But the 
psychic forces, although sensed and believed in for ages, have, 
through the influence of modern materialism, fallen entirely 
into disrepute. As these psychic forces had been called, in con- 
tradistinction to the material forces, " immaterial" what fur- 
ther testimony was required for their utter rejection? They 
could not be anything, as there existed, so it was taught, 
nothing besides matter. Rather than believe the determining 
cause of the ulterior development of the germ an imma- 
terial something — that is, according to the materialistic view, 
a nothing — they preferred " a specific kind of material consti- 
tution." And what is that? Well, a specific kind of material 
constitution. And now everybody thinks he knows all about it. 
It is just a specific kind of material constitution. That's all. 

But do we fare any better with the assumption of " psychic 
forces ? " What are they f To commence with their most pro- 
nounced manifestations in man, they are the primitive forces 
of sight, hearing, touch, smell, taste and feeling in all the 
variations of the vital senses (72-77). In the higher animals 
they are the same (except in quality of retentive power, which 
makes man a spiritual being) ; in the lower to the lowest 
animals the psychical forces manifest themselves in various 
kinds of sensibility. In plants we call these forces irritability, 
while, if we wish to trace them still further, we may recognize 
them in the inorganic world as chemical affinities. Are all 
these forces nothings, because they cannot be weighed and 
bottled? Are they nothing, because they have been called 
immaterial for the sake of contradistinction to forces that can 
( be weighed and grasped? What w T ould all the material forces 
be without these imponderable forces, in spite of their specific 
kind of constitution? Or, rather, what does this specific kind 
of material constitution mean, if it is not psychic forces united 
to material forces. This is another bugbear for the material- 



334 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

istic mind. How can an immaterial something be combined 
with matter and affect it? Because the " immaterial something " 
is a real substantial something, as real as any piece of substan- 
tial matter with which you can break the thickest skull, and it 
combines in all possible variations with all kinds of material 
forces, and molds them into the different varieties of things that 
exist, for it alone possesses the potentiality for purposive action. 
But where does it come from, and where is it? Where does 
matter come from, and where is it? May not the one be as 
eternal and omnipresent as the other ? Instinctive action may 
be traced through all nature. The air consists of just four-fifths 
of nitrogen, one-fifth of oxygen, and a trace of carbon dioxide, 
and this proportion is constant all over the earth. Water is 
invariably a chemical combination of two volumes of hydrogen 
and one volume of oxygen. All chemical affinities have con- 
stant relations. We may well declare that the reason of these 
peculiarities is " a specific kind of material constitution," 
because we do not know any better w r hat concerns the real 
nature of matter or material forces. But dare we say that 
we thereby explain the ultimate reason of these combinations 
and relations ? Might not these material forces just as well be 
combined with still finer forces, forces that do not lie in the 
range of our senses, and yet be the moving cause of all the 
changes in the material world ? Or, if this is more palatable, 
might not material forces themselves ultimately consist of such 
" immaterial " forces and be a mere expression of the latter ? 
Might not, therefore, instinct commence in the inorganic world, 
and chemical affinity and gravitation really be instinctive ac- 
tions of the so-called material forces? 

When we further consider the instinctive actions in all 
forms of life — the vegetable as well as the animal — our faith 
in " a specific kind of material constitution " is still more 
shaken. Everywhere we meet nothing but the 65 or 70 ele- 
mentary bodies combined, not only in the inorganic, but also 
in the organic world, into countless varieties of more or less 
stable forms. This number of elements might explain well 
enough the make-up of the numerous inorganic bodies, by vari- 
ous combinations, in the same way as the millions of words of the 



INSTINCT. 335 

different languages are the result of the various combinations 
of a limited number of sounds and letters. However, in 
the organic world we meet a difficulty which cannot be ex- 
plained by mere mechanical atomic juxtapositions and motions 
of the different elementary bodies; namely, growth, irrita- 
bility and sensibility ; in short, life phenomena. With the first 
manifestation of vital action, action other than that arising from 
known elementary forces (bodies), a new explanation is de- 
manded to account for life phenomena. (Compare 110.) Psychi- 
cal forces although unperceivable to the senses, are no less 
realities than the material forces. What are psychical forces? 
As stated above, they are those imponderable (immaterial) forces 
that in the vegetable kingdom constitute growth; that is, a pur- 
posive selection of material forces and their molding, chang- 
ing and combining to specific living forms, with irritability 
approaching in many species to sensibility. 

Still more glaringly these " immaterial " forces manifest 
themselves in the animal kingdom, where they gradually ap- 
pear from the lower vital forces up to sight as differentiated sen- 
sibilities. No amount of shifting and combining material atoms 
will ever (not even in billions of years) produce anything like 
sensibility and consequent consciousness, without the action of 
those " immaterial " forces which alone possess the potentiality 
for conscious development. We have called these immaterial 
forces primitive forces of the soul. Here we arrive at the point 
where we must divest our minds of the ambiguity in which the 
terms "memory" and "consciousness" have constantly been 
used. 

Prof. Hering says : " Memory collects the countless phe- 
nomena of our existence into a single whole; and as our 
bodies would be scattered into the dust of their component 
atoms if they were not held together by the attraction of mat- 
ter, so our consciousness would be broken up into as many 
fragments as we had lived seconds, but for the binding and 
unifying force of memory." Here memory is objectified as a 
binding and unifying force, which it is not. What we call 
memory is not a particular power which does this or that. It 
is simply the continuance of primitive forces as modified by 



oob COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

external or internal stimuli in an unconscious or latent state 
(102). The memory does not " collect the countless phenomena 
of our existence into a single whole ; " but the countless phe- 
nomena of our existence continue to exist as modified primitive 
forces — as vestiges — and make up the unconscious, latent treas- 
ure of our soul or our memory. Our consciousness would not 
" be broken up into as many fragments as we had lived seconds 
but for the binding and unifying force of memory." No, not 
at all ; but we would never come to any kind of consciousness 
without the endurance of the primitive forces as modified by 
corresponding stimuli. The term "memory" has become 
so thoroughly amalgamated with the term " consciousness," 
that in common parlance " remembering," " having a memory 
of," " being conscious of," have become synonymous terms. 
However, consciousness and memory are two entirely different 
things. While "memory," as above stated, merely signifies 
the continuance of the primitive forces as modified by corres- 
ponding stimuli (external or internal) in an unconscious, 
latent state, "consciousness," on the other hand, has four dis- 
tinctly different meanings : 1. The consciousness which is the 
opposite of consciousness not yet existing (97). 2. The excita- 
tion of unconscious mental modifications (98). 3. The con- 
sciousness of psychical processes, which depends on special 
concepts, so-called internal senses, introspection, self-conscious- 
ness (104). 4. The consciousness of the ego (105). 

We know not only this, but also that consciousness in its 
first sense, as opposite to consciousness not yet existing, devel- 
ops in various degrees or intensities from sight down to the 
vital senses in man, and from the highest gifted to the lowest 
animal ; and that all the modifications of the primitive forces, 
no matter in what degree of consciousness they have developed, 
appear throughout either in the form of perception (sensation), 
conation or feeling, and are alike governed by the same laws 
of psychic activity, as has been explained in the three first 
parts of this work, to which of necessity I can here merely 
refer. 

Thus animals form perceptions, conations and feelings 
as we do, and the combinations and excitations of these psychic 



INSTINCT. 337 

modifications are governed by the same laws as ours ; but the 
difference between the psychic modifications of animals and 
man lies in the degree of consciousness in its first sense, because 
the primitive forces of animals, even of their best developed 
senses, lack the retentive power which is so characteristic 
of man's higher senses. Animals undoubtedly do acquire in- 
tellectual" forms of psychic modifications — analogues to our 
concepts and inferring capabilities ; they undoubtedly show 
conative forms in all the varieties of their spheres; they un- 
doubtedly manifest many of the emotions and feelings similar 
to those of men; and yet they remain animals and never 
attain to human capacity. The difference does not lie in the 
kind of sensibilities, but in the quality of their primitive 
forces to endure distinctly in the specifically modified state 
which external or internal stimuli have wrought in them, or as 
Ben eke has it, in the "Kraftigkeit der TJrvermbgen." 

Now, then, we will be better able to review what Professor 
Hering says: "When, in accordance with its instinct, the 
caterpillar becomes a chrysalis, or the bird builds its nest, or 
the bee its cell, these creatures act consciously and not as blind 
machines. They know how to vary their proceedings within 
certain limits in conformity with altered circumstances, and 
they are thus liable to make mistakes. They feel pleasure 
when their work advances, and pain if it is hindered. They 
learn by experience thus acquired, and build on a second 
occasion better than on the first." All this is true in a certain 
sense. These creatures do act " consciously and not as blind 
machines." It all depends on what we understand by "acting 
consciously." It is not a consciousness of their psychic activity 
(104), but merely an excitation of specifically modified vestiges, 
which are capable of being set into motion by corresponding 
stimuli, and which must have been acquired by, and trans- 
ferred from, generation to generation. The entire process of 
their action, therefore, rolls off unconsciously or unbeknown to 
themselves, yet strictly according to psychical laws. Con- 
sciousness we can ascribe to these instinctive actions of animals 
only in its first and second meaning (97 and 98), and this, too, 
only in a degree of intensity and clearness as the primitive 



338 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

psychic forces of animals are capable of. If we wanted to 
make comparisons, we might liken these conscious activities to 
the sensations and actions of a new-born child when it com- 
mences to breathe, to suck, to cry, etc. (see 89, on reflex action), 
or to our own involuntary actions, which likewise to a great 
extent ensue unbeknown to ourselves, or even to the uncon- 
scious rolling off of whole chains of mental modifications 
during the highest and most complicated mental activities, 
w T hich we call the " tact," " dexterity ," "productive action" of 
our soul (100). 

After these psychological considerations we necessarily 
arrive at the conclusion that Prof. Hering's physiological ex- 
planation of instinct is not adequate to its pretension. We 
want more than a mere " specific kind of material constitution." 
Instinct is so obviously of a psychical nature, that a specific 
kind of material constitution no more affords an explanation 
than a specific kind of material constitution of the brain, and 
the whole nervous system will ever explain mental activities 
in all their forms of development. Material constitution and 
psychic development are clearly two things not commen- 
surable. 

Instinct, as a psychic activity, pre-supposes primiti \ r e psychic 
forces just as necessarily as the make-up of material forms pre- 
supposes material forces or so-called material elements. The 
primitive psychic forces manifest themselves as sensibilities, 
differentiating gradually, as the being rises in the scale of 
organisms, to organic senses. The lowest grades of sensibilities 
develop but low grades of consciousness in its first sense (97), 
and none at all in the sense of introspection (104), so that the 
excitation of its modifications rolls off unbeknown to the 
individual. This excitation, however, follows the same laws 
as the most intensely conscious mental modifications, and pro- 
duces, therefore, the same purposive effect as do mental modifi- 
cations of the highest grade of consciousness. The animal 
acts, then, as if guided by deliberation to a purpose without 
being really conscious of it. But as the animal has not had 
the opportunity of gathering any experience in this line, we 
must admit with Professor Hering, " that as the animal even 



INSTINCT. 339 

in the outset of its career hits so readily upon the most judicious 
way of achieving its purpose, it is owing to the inherited ac- 
quisitions of its memory " (though not of its nerve substance, 
but of its inherited psychical nature, i. e., its sensibilities), 
" which require but a touch and they will fall at once to the 
most appropriate kind of activity." That this must be so is 
proven by the fact that each animal during its development 
shapes and molds its own body for specific purposes, which pur- 
pose lies in its psychical nature as an inherited prototype from 
its ancestors. As this psychic being, by new conditions, may 
either become more perfect or deteriorate, one can easily 
understand why some animals, especially under domestication, 
acquire in the course of generations certain traits which they 
had not before, or lose traits which they owned in former 
generations ; or, as Darwin has it : " Under domestication 
instincts have been acquired and natural instincts have been 
lost." (Origin of Species, p. 211.) We come thus to the con- 
clusion : Both reason and instinct have their root in the 
psychical part of organized nature; reason in the energy or 
retentive power of the higher senses; instinct in the great 
sensitivity of the vital senses to terrestrial influences. Reason 
elevates the individual over nature, makes him to a certain 
degree her master. Instinct coerces the otherwise helpless 
individual to self-saving actions, makes it a readily respond- 
ing organ of external nature. The cause of both is their 
psychical nature, a nature widely different from so-called 
matter. It is the shaping, organizing, ruling principle in 
nature, which escapes all attempts to bring it before the sen- 
sorial organs, and without which even the ingenious explana- 
tion of Darwin of the origin of species lacks a real foundation. 
His causes of variability, his principles of natural selection, 
etc., clamor constantly for a deeper agency to account for their 
existence and action than mere external conditions, and Dar- 
win himself says: "The nature of the organism seems to be 
much more important as a cause of variation than the nature 
of conditions " (Origin of Species, p. 6). What is that nature ? 



340 complementary inquiries. 

108. Varied Combinations of the Qualities of the Primi- 
tive Forces. — Temperaments. 

We are already acquainted with the innate qualities of the 
primitive forces. (See 5, 7, 8, and 14.) If we consider their 
natural relations in general, we find that the retentive power or 
energy in all healthy souls is greater in the higher, less in the 
lower senses (8). Sensitiveness is sometimes greater in one system 
of primitive forces, sometimes in another (5); and quickness 
seems to be in the highest degree peculiar to hearing (14), 
that is, speaking generally. In comparing individual men 
we find these qualities very variously combined. Take the 
faculties of sight, for instance. We may find them in one man 

a. In a high degree retentive, sensitive, and vivid as well ; 
or, while very retentive, they may be but moderately sensitive 
and vivid ; or, they may join a high degree of retentive power 
with only small sensitiveness and vividness. Moreover, they 
may be 

b. Only moderately retentive and in a high degree sensitive 
and vivid ; or, but poorly retentive and highly sensitive and 
lively; or, 

c. They may have a low degree of tenacity combined with 
little sensitiveness and vividness. 

In short, these combinations are innumerable, since every 
degree of retentive power, from the highest to the lowest, may 
be supposed to be combined, and may really be found in com- 
bination with every degree of sensitiveness and liveliness. 

Equally different may be the combinations as respects hear- 
ing, touching, tasting, smelling and the vital senses. When 
one reflects that in the above examples we have specified only 
three different degrees (high, moderate and low), whereas, in 
fact, an endless number of degrees and gradations are to be 
found, it is easy to infer how infinitely various and infinitely 
numerous the combinations of these qualities of our primitive 
forces may be. In reality we do not find two men who are 
exactly alike in these respects. 

We have several times pointed out the influence exercised 
by these combinations on the evolution of the human soul. 



TEMPERAMENTS. 341 

Thus we find, generally, that a higher degree of retentive power 
produces greater strength and clearness in the psychical modi- 
fications (7, 10, 54, 55, 65) ; more sensitiveness gives them greater 
richness, complexity and delicacy (5, 10, 51); greater vivacity 
causes quicker apprehension, elaboration and consciousness of 
the impressions (14, 21). Consequently, where a man is en- 
dowed with these three qualities in a high degree, it naturally 
follows that very favorable relations are offered for the devel- 
opment of his soul. Possibly we might call such a texture of 
soul " a choleric temperament." 

It often happens that one quality so predominates over the 
rest as to prove anything but an advantage. We find men, 
for instance, who combine a low degree of sensitiveness and 
vividness with a high degree of energy. It is evident that they 
will be wanting in those products which result from an equally 
high sensitiveness and vividness. Such a man may, indeed, 
develop such modifications as are produced in him in great 
clearness and strength, yet they can never attain to great var- 
iety, to great multiplicity and subtility, nor can he apprehend 
them quickly, or elaborate them, or bring them rapidly into 
consciousness ; for great tenacity joined to defective vivacity 
cause these psychical acts to be performed with too much slow- 
ness. This kind of disposition is commonly designated by the 
term " phlegma" 

A totally different effect is produced when the vivacity of 
man's primitive forces greatly predominates over their energy 
and sensitiveness. In such a case we find impressions quickly 
apprehended, elaborated and rendered conscious; but the 
retention of them after they have ceased to operate, a firm and 
deeply-rooted hold on them, great clearness and strength, as 
well as the abundance, multiplicity and delicacy of mental 
modifications, is absent. We find such men quickly take up 
any subject. They throw themselves into anything heartily, 
but they are not steadfast in their efforts, not deep in their 
feelings, and but superficial as to their knowledge. We may, 
perhaps, venture to place them in the class of " sanguine" 

It is different again when sensitiveness greatly prevails over 
the other qualities of our primitive forces. In such a case, 



342 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

since the soul, from its want of energy, is unable to attain to 
strength and clearness, overexcitation (compare 3G) must 
easily take place, and being likewise defective in vivacity, this 
cannot soon pass away, but remains longer in consciousness, 
and thus a foundation is laid for defective mental modifica- 
tions of all kinds, such as fear, irritableness, selfishness, ill- 
temper, etc. Possibly such a disposition may be termed the 
"melancholic" 

The mode, therefore, in which these several qualities are 
combined at birth, exercises a most important influence on 
our mental development, so important, that as these relations 
vary the whole psychical condition must be of a different 
stamp. Hence it is that no two men, even if their external 
conditions are completely similar, can possibly exhibit exactly 
the same results in their development. Although directly 
after the birth of a child these different modes of combination 
are scarcely perceptible, still their constant and progressive 
influence confirms the old truth that "great effects spring 
from little causes." The whole constitution of the soul, arising 
from the innate differences between the several qualities of the primi- 
tive forces and their combinations, is called a man's "temperament." 

If we are now convinced that the various degrees and modes 
in which these qualities may be combined are infinitely nu- 
merous, we may declare that the various " temperaments " are 
equally numerous and complex, and that the old-fashioned 
attempt to divide all men in this respect into four classes (the 
choleric, sanguinic, melancholic and phlegmatic) cannot possi- 
bly lead to any valuable results. Moreover, instead of deducing 
these temperaments from the constitution of the soul itself, the 
attempt was made, and erroneously made, to explain them by 
peculiar qualities of the blood and other fluids. It is true 
enough that the bodily constitution as a whole, the different 
primitive forces of which have in different men different de- 
grees of energy, vivacity and susceptibility, exercises no con- 
temptible influence on temperament; but the vital senses, 
which make the bodily constitution, belong likewise to the 
psychical nature of man, and thus it is the psychical nature, 
after all, that decides the temperament. 



FORCE AND MATTER. 343 

It must be allowed that this division into four classes, when 
nothing more than a rough outline is required, occasionally 
enables us to hit off the characteristics of individual men ex- 
cellently well; but it is useless for scientific purposes. For 
scientific purposes special, not general, peculiarities are all- 
important, whereas in a thousand persons you can scarcely 
find two who exactly resemble each other in point of tem- 
perament. 

The natural and complete similarity of all men, so often 
asserted to exist, is, accordingly, a palpable fiction. Even at 
their birth there are no two human beings alike, whether in 
body or in mind. How can they, then, afterward become 
alike, when innate dissimilarities are constantly multiplied in 
the accumulative process of psychical modifications during 
the course of development ? In this varied combination of 
the different qualities of the innate forces in all sentient beings 
lies the causa vera of natural variation and selection. (From 
The Elements of Psychology, p. 237, etc.) 

109. Force and Matter. 

" Force is that which is spent in the origination of motion, and 
what is thus expended is equivalent to its product, i. e.,to the amount 
of motion produced" (J. R. Mayer, Die Mechanik der Wdrme, 
p. 265.) 

It is often the case that in speaking of force the product 
(motion) is mistaken for force. In this way we speak of light, 
heat, electricity, magnetism, chemical action, attraction, gravi- 
tation, etc., as " physical forces." This is obviously wrong. 
Light is no force, but a certain undulatory motion of the ether. 
Whence is this motion derived? From combustion for one 
thing. What is combustion ? " A clashing of minute particles 
of carbon, hydrogen and oxygen as they rush together." 
These are the things spent in the origination of motion, and 
they, therefore, are in reality the forces which, in this instance, 
produce the undulatory motion of the ether known as the 
phenomenon of light. Associated with these luminous vibra- 
tions of the ether are heat-rays, which are non-visual Even as 



344 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

early as 1800 it was discovered by Sir Wm. Herschel that the 
temperature corresponding to each color of the solar spectrum 
augmented from violet to red, and actually increased to 
some distance in the dark space beyond it. Thus it was proved 
that the sun emitted, beside the luminous rays, also heat-rays, 
which are not visible to the eye. 

On the other extreme of the color spectrum, beyond the 
violet, there are other kinds of invisible rays, which, however, 
instead of producing heat, cause chemical decomposition of 
certain compound substances, as is shown in the decomposition 
of carbonic acid in the leaves of plants, and in the phenomena 
of photography. These latter are called actinic or chemical 
rays. 

Now the difference between these various rays consists 
mainly in the difference between the periods in which the 
waves of the ether vibrate. The number of shocks upon the 
retina per second necessary to the production of the impression 
of red is four hundred and fifty-one millions of millions, while 
the number of shocks corresponding to the impression of 
violet is seven hundred and eighty-nine millions of millions. 
This gives for the length of a wave of the extreme red the 
36,918th part of one inch, and for a wave of the extreme 
violet the 64,630th and one part of an inch. In this range of 
ether-vibrations are included all the effects the visual capacity 
of the human eye can appreciate. Vibrations of ether below 
or above the rate noted cease to produce any luminous im- 
pression. If below this rate, the vibrations are felt as heat, if 
above, they manifest themselves in chemical changes. 

That these three apparently widely different phenomena — 
light, heat and chemical changes — are in their nature dif- 
ferent modes of vibration of one and the same ether, is proved 
by the following facts : When the longer waves of heat are 
intensified, they gradually grow shorter, until finally they 
reach the periods of the waves of the spectrum. This fact has 
been demonstrated by Dr. Draper while heating platinum. 
As the heat augments, the platinum becomes luminous, and 
the different colors from red to white heat appear successively 
in the natural order of the spectrum. Thus heat is converted 



FORCE AND MATTER. 345 

into light. When a black ribbon is passed through the successive 
colors of the spectrum, it quenches them all, that is, it absorbs 
all the constituents of the solar light. When a red ribbon 
is passed through the spectrum, it appears still brighter in the 
red light, while in the green or blue of the spectrum it is black 
as jet. A green ribbon also shines brighter in the green of 
the spectrum, while in the red it appears perfectly black. All 
these phenomena take place because objects we call black, red 
or green are so constituted that the black is conformable to all 
the luminous waves of the ether, which waves black assimilates 
or absorbs, while the red is antagonistic to the red, and the 
green to the green, which it consequently does not assimilate, 
but rejects. 

Now, what does all this mean? Are the waves of white 
light, when falling upon a black object, or the green and blue, 
when falling upon a red object, or the red, w T hen falling upon 
a green object, really annihilated ? By no means. Examining 
closely, w r e find that during the described process these objects 
have undergone a change in temperature. Their heat has been 
augmented to a degree exactly equivalent to the light extinguished. 
The periods of the luminous ether have simply been lowered, 
made slower, so as to escape the visual range. In short, light 
has been converted into heat. 

When the ultra-violet waves — which exceed in rapidity those 
of the violet, and which, therefore, lie out of the range of vision — 
are made to impinge upon the molecules of certain substances 
(on those of sulphate of quinine, for instance), their rate of 
vibration is at once brought down through the intermediation 
of the sulphate of quinine to a slower period, and the hereto- 
fore invisible rays are rendered visible. In other words, actinic 
rays have been converted into light. (Compare John Tyndall's 
Lectures on Light.) 

All this shows clearly that light, heat and chemical change 
(chemism) are, in their very nature, different vibratory motions 
of one and the same medium, the all-pervading ether ; that 
these different rates of vibrations may be converted into one 
another, and that the correlation of these so-called forces consists 
in their common nature, all being vibratory motions of one 
23 



34G COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

and the same ether, though of different periods, periods pecul- 
iar to each of them. 

Now the question arises: What originates these vibrations, 
or what are the causes which produce these effects ? 

It has already been stated that in the case of light, for one 
thing, these phenomena are brought about by combustion. 
As, however, combustion consists of the clashing together of 
minute particles of carbon, hydrogen and oxygen, it follows 
that the origination of these phenomena lies in the nature of 
carbon, hydrogen and oxygen, and that these elements, therefore, 
must be accredited with the title of "forces." 

When heat-waves are to be converted into light, the only 
requisite is to intensify the heat, so that the amplitude of the 
waves not only becomes greater, but their length shorter, 
which raises them to the range of the spectrum. In order 
to effect this, a greater amount of carbon, hydrogen and oxy- 
gen, or a stronger voltaic current must be expended, and con- 
sequently it is again the particles of carbon, hydrogen and oxy- 
gen, and in the case of the battery, the particles of copper, zinc 
and acid, which convert longer into shorter ether-waves, and 
change heat into light ; and these elements, therefore, are the 
causes, and should be considered as the "forces," while heat and 
light are the effects — the peculiar vibrations of ether produced 
by them. 

When we see that a black ribbon quenches all the colors of 
the spectrum, a red one the green and blue, and a green one 
the red, and we find afterward their temperature raised to a 
degree exactly equivalent to the light extinguished, we con- 
clude that in these instances light has been converted into 
heat, or that the shorter luminous waves have been changed 
into the longer heat-waves. But how has this change been 
brought about ? As we cannot say the ether- waves have done 
it of their own accord (since they elsewhere continue in their 
accustomed rhythm if not interfered with), we must necessarily 
place the cause of this change in the peculiar nature of the par- 
ticles which constitute the black, red or green ribbon, and must 
consider the particles, therefore, as the forces which produce 
this effect, i. e., convert light into heat. 



FORCE AND MATTER. 347 

The same must be said of the sulphate of quinine and many 
substances which reduce the invisible actinic rays to a slower 
period of vibration, and make them visible or convert them 
into light- waves. The cause of this change in the period of 
ether vibrations is the quinine and other substances (a long list 
of which has been examined by Stokes). As these substances 
are spent in the change of the ether motion, their particles are 
the forces which produce this effect — the conversion of actinic 
into light-waves. 

Since, furthermore, heat maybe transformed into electricity, 
and electricity into magnetism ; since chemical changes may 
produce electricity, or heat, or light or magnetism; since 
gravitation may be transformed to any of these forms, or to all 
of them in succession — we may safely infer that these so-called 
physical forces are in reality but modes of motion, caused and 
originated by what has thus far been designated by the term 
" matter." Matter, then, instead of being subordinate to these 
so-called physical forces (which have been thought to play and 
mold it), is, on the contrary, the very cause. Matter is spent 
in the origination of these modes of motion, and must, there- 
fore, rightly be considered as the "force" which produces all 
physical forces. 

We must, then (in opposition to the common view, which 
speaks of force and matter as two different things, of which the 
first uses the latter as the material out of which it molds all 
existing things), declare that such a distinction is not tena- 
ble ; that, on the contrary, every particle of matter is force, and 
that the so-called physical forces are but modes of motion pro- 
duced by these forces. We must, in speaking of matter, 
discard all notions of dead and inactive, and fashion our mind 
to conceive every particle of matter as a force (force constitutes 
its nature, its essence) which may change its form, but which 
can never be destroyed. 

Accordingly, a plant cannot be said to possess forces ; it is 
force and nothing else, a system of diverse forces which appears 
to our senses as something long, broad, thick, heavy, colored, 
sweet, bitter, etc., etc. ; in short, appears as that which we call 
body, material, matter or substance. 



348 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

If force and matter were two distinct things, were they 
actually opposed to each other, it would follow that we must 
be able to separate (e. g., in plants) their forces from the dead 
material. But cut a body into its smallest particles, divide it 
mechanically or chemically as far as it goes, and you will 
never light upon force without matter. Force and matter 
will always be found united ; they are never separable except 
in thought, just because they are, in fact, one thing, i. enforce. 

Men and brutes require nourishment in order to exist. The 
food taken and digested is changed into blood, and carried all 
over the body in a suitable form for assimilation by parts 
which have suffered loss and decay. Thus the organism is 
renewed daily and obtains new forces by the nutriment which 
it takes in and prepares for ready assimilation. But still it 
remains matter and force all the same, which again, by the 
activity of the organism, is converted into motion. 

Forces are never at rest Even where they exist to the human 
senses in complete repose, as in the state of crystallization, or 
in the compact form of a rock or a metal, it is the attraction 
of their own particles which keeps them in this static condi- 
tion, and these particles (molecules) even here a are held to be 
in motion — possibly like the heavenly bodies around their 
central sun, and, for ought we know, at relatively as great 
distances from each other. A nebula in the heavens appears 
to the naked eye as a compact mass having a definite form 
like a common solid; but the revelations of the telescope show 
that the bodies which compose it are millions of miles from 
each other." (Boston Journal of Chemistry, Apr., 1875, p. 110.) 

Forces are never at rest. Those which constitute our atmos- 
phere and soil combine and differentiate in the vegetable 
organism to higher forms, such as vegetable albumen, 
legumine, amyline, fat, sugar, vegetable acids, cellulose, etc., 
which again, in the economy of animal organization, rise to 
still higher differentiations. But scarcely have they fulfilled 
their mission, when by a retrograde metamorphosis they join 
again the sources whence they were originally derived — the 
atmosphere in the form of gases, and the soil in the form of fluids 
and solids. This is the eternal revolution of forces by which 



SOUL AND BODY. 349 

nothing is lost, and yet an incalculable amount of work is done 
in every second of existence ! 

110. Soul and Body. 

Now the question arises : Are the known sixty-five elemen- 
tary bodies, and all their ever-varying combinations, which 
constitute the material world, all the forces that exist? If they 
were, the greatest part, and by far the most important part of 
all, the phenomena which the living w r orld presents, w T ould be 
entirely incomprehensible. Let us take, as an instance, the 
phenomenon of diffusion of fluids through different cells. 
It has been supposed that the facts obtained by numerous 
physical experiments in regard to the laws of diffusion might 
be applied to the living organism. It would apparently seem 
that that which could be observed to take place in an artificial 
cell-apparatus, would also naturally take place in living 
tissues. However, this conclusion proved to be a grand mis- 
take, as the researches of Sachs, Gerlach and Joh. Ranke have 
sufficiently shown. Sachs, in his Handbuch der Experimental- 
Physiologie der Pflanzen, p. 157 (Leipzig, 1865), states expressly: 
" That if a cell is killed, even without any visible injury, the 
phenomena of diffusion change at once, and strikingly." 
Gerlach states (" Wissenschaftliche Mittheilungen der Erlanger 
physikal-medicin. Gesellschaft, 1858, Ueber die Einwirkung 
von Farbstoff auf lebende Gewebe"), "that the assimilation of 
new material by living tissues is a vital process and totally 
different from the inorganic process of hydro-diffusion," and 
this important fact has been confirmed by Joh. Ranke in regard 
to muscles and nerves. (Joh. Ranke, Die Lebensbedingungen 
der Nerven, Leipzig, 1868, p. 73, etc) His experiments prove 
that living and dead tissues differ not only in their capacity 
to imbibe, when brought in contact with a weak solution of 
kitchen salt, or distilled water, etc., but also widely in their 
capacity of admitting salts. Hence he came to the conclusion 
that the appropriation of inorganic material by the living muscle 
and nerve-tissue does not ensue according to the laws of inorganic 
diffusion. (Compare Qrundlinien der Pathologie des Stoffwechsels, 
by Dr. F. W. Beneke, Berlin, 1874.) 



350 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

What does all this mean? Diffusion is motion. Motion can- 
not take place without a corresponding something that is 
spent in its origination. If, now, diffusion (motion of fluids 
through tissues) is different in living and dead tissues, it fol- 
lows that there must be a something in the living that is not 
in the dead. As force originates motion, it follows further that 
the living tissue contains forces, which forces the dead tissue 
does not contain. W hat are these forces? Thus far no one 
has succeeded in exhibiting them to the senses. Do they, 
therefore, not exist? Did thallium not exist before Mr. 
Crookes discovered it? 

We have here a simple fact, an undeniable effect, that diffu- 
sion is materially changed in the self-same tissue, when that 
tissue is living and when it is dead. This effect — motion, dif- 
fusion — cannot be altered without a corresponding change in 
the forces which produce it. Now, as these forces, so far as 
they are the known constituent parts of the tissue, remain, to 
all appearance, the same dead or alive, it follows that what 
produces the change must be of a nature which lies out of the 
range of appearance. It must be either of a quality which 
escapes detection by the usual mechanical or chemical means, 
or it must be of a finer quality for the detection of which there 
exist no means of any kind. Hence, we are driven to the 
assumption of the existence of forces which lie out of the 
range of mechanical or chemical analysis. 

Diffusion is an instance drawn from the lowest plane of 
vegetable and animal life. Let us also consider an instance 
from a higher plane — sensibility. 

Sensibility must not be confounded with irritability. Sen- 
sibility is the basis of all conscious development, and is closely 
associated with the nervous structure of the animal kingdom. 
(Compare 70, 71.) In the course of progressive differentiation 
the nervous structure grows in complexity. At the same time 
sensibility unfolds to greater conscious activity or intelligence, 
and hence it was assumed that intelligence w T as merely a 
function of the nervous tissue. 

We have shown the fallacy of this conclusion in the physio- 
logical part of this work. A closer analysis brings us to quite 



SOUL AND BODY. 351 

different conclusions. We see that nervous tissue retains sen- 
sibility only so long as it lives. At the moment of its death 
sensibility ceases, and chemism assumes full sway over its 
constituent parts. As such a change, in fact any change, in 
action (motion) cannot take place without a corresponding 
change in the forces which produce it (just as little as heat can 
be converted into light, or light into heat, or chemical action 
into light, without corresponding changes in the intermediating 
forces) (compare 109), the question arises: What is it that 
causes this change of sensibility into mere chemism? And, 
on the other hand, what is it that converts chemical action in 
the living organism into sensibility? We stand obviously 
before a gap which cannot be bridged over by mechanical or 
chemical contrivances. 

Dr. Fletcher, in his Rudiments of Physiology, tries to over- 
come this difficulty by declaring " that the truly living matter 
was not in simply a somewhat different chemical state from 
that in which it exists after death, but that the elements are 
in a state of combination not to be called chemical at all in the 
ordinary sense, but one which is utterly sui generis ; that, in 
fact, no albumen, flbrine, myosine, protogine or fats exist at all 
in the living matter; but that the sum of the elements of all 
these is united into a compound, for which we have no chem- 
ical name ; that of the complex made, in which the atoms are 
combined, we can form no idea, and it is only in the moment 
of death that those chemical compounds with which we are 
familiar take their origin. In fact, that death means simply 
the resolution of this complex combination into the simpler 
compounds (albumen, fibrine, and the rest), we find on analy- 
sis." {The Protoplasmic Theory of Life, by John Drysdale, M.D., 
London, 1874, p. 5.) 

Dr. Fletcher considers, then, living matter as entirely differ- 
ent from dead matter, and that " chemical analysis must be 
considered as useful in showing us not what such matter was 
composed of while it possessed vitality, but what it is composed 
of afterward.^ {Ibidem) 

We may accept this hypothesis to a certain extent. We 
are likewise of the opinion that nervous tissue retains sensi- 



352 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

bility only so long as it lives, and that with the cessation of 
life chemical affinity takes its hold. We must also differ, how- 
ever, from his views. We cannot understand why a power, 
" which may be called vital affinity," should be superseded 
" by another power called chemical affinity," without there 
having occurred, at the same time, a change in the special 
forces which produce the difference in the action of " living 
and dead" matter. That "vitality or irritability is a mere 
property of organized or living matter, as inflammability is 
characteristic of phosphorus, or elasticity of ivory," would, in 
fact, say no more than that the living matter is alive. Fletch- 
er's hypothesis, therefore, does not bridge over the gap com- 
pletely. Although he admits the difference between " living 
and dead" matter, he makes that difference a mere property 
of living tissue, its vital affinity. 

But this affinity is exactly the thing which has to be ex- 
plained. His assertion, "that the instant the power called 
chemical affinity succeeds another power which may be called 
vital affinity, and by which it had been previously superseded, 
common chemical compounds are all that is left of the organ- 
ized mass," does not in the least tell us how this change of 
vital into chemical affinity is brought about. Any change in 
action (motion), as previously stated, presupposes always a 
corresponding change in the forces which produce it ; and if, 
after that change, " common chemical compounds are all that 
is left of the organized mass in which the elements had been 
associated," it follows that previous to that change, " while it 
possessed vitality, such matter was composed of something of 
which it is not afterward." This admission is satisfactory, 
but it has no great weight; for, at the same time, Dr. Fletcher 
also asserts : " Nor is this power called ' vital affinity ' any 
essence or force added to the living matter, for irritability 
or vitality is a property of organized or living matter," etc. 
This power called vital affinity is, indeed, no essence or force 
added to the living matter. It is the effect, the action, the 
motion of that matter thus composed. If, now, as Dr. Fletcher 
correctly asserts, chemical analysis shows us not what such 
matter was composed of while it possessed vitality, but what it 



SOUL AND BODY. 353 

is composed of afterward," we are compelled to assume that 
the living nervous tissue consists of still other forces than those 
which make up its material body, and which lie entirely out 
of the reach of any and all mechanical and chemical means of 
detection ; for without corresponding forces a change in action 
(motion) is as incomprehensible' as it would be illogical to 
admit. 

All life phenomena force upon us this conviction, and it is 
only "when preconceived ideas tyrannize over the understand- 
ing" that the facts which teach this simple truth, and which 
are as common as the falling apple, are overlooked or treated 
with " scientific" ignorance. All life phenomena would be 
utterly incomprehensible without the assumption of the exist- 
ence of higher forces. In the first and faintest motion that life 
begets lies the unsurmountable boundary of "a science" which 
assumes nothing but forces which can be traced and deter- 
mined by crucible and scales. It is an arbitrary fencing in of 
a narrow road for human thought, a limitation w T hich the 
ever-expanding mind — itself the outcropping of higher forces 
— will never tolerate. 

When we find that at a certain stage of evolution the known 
(so-called) material forces are absolutely insufficient for the 
explanation of phenomena which are as absolutely real and 
objective as any in the organic world, we must necessarily 
conclude that there are' still other forces at work, although 
they do not lie in the range of our senses and their auxiliaries. 
It is a hypothesis as correct and as necessary as that of gravi- 
tation, or the theory of atoms. And as these forces produce 
effects as real as any of the material forces, they must in turn 
be themselves as real as any of the forces which appear to our 
senses. From their effects w r e learn their nature, and in this 
they differ as much as "material" forces differ among them- 
selves. We observe a constant gradation from lower to higher 
ones, until in man — the microcosm — all seem to be united, 
from the lowest earthy to the highest psychical forces. But 
still, all constituent parts of man are forces. There are no such 
two things as force and matter. What w T e call matter is force 
capable of affecting the senses, and if it is customary to call 



354 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

all that possesses this property "material," there is no cogent 
reason why forces, the nature of which lies out of the range of 
sensual perception, should not be called "immaterial" without 
detracting by this designation, in the least, anything of their 
reality and substantiality. 

The term merely implies that, in contradistinction to the first 
class, the latter are of a nature which is not capable of affecting 
the senses, or rather which our senses in their ordinary develop- 
ment are not capable of perceiving. We know so very little 
yet about the nature of matter, except that our nose appears 
sometimes longer than our arms, when in the dark we run 
against an open door and strike it with that precious organ, 
which means that the common idea of matter is but the 
crudest conception of its impenetrability by another object. 
We might, perhaps, from another standpoint, call matter with 
the same right " immaterial," and mind, the only matter that 
exists. But what would we gain by it? Some prefer the 
designation "transcendental" or " super sensuous," that is, tran- 
scending the senses. Even that is admissible, if we under- 
stand by it not something that is nothing, but real, actual 
forces, which differ from the so-called " material " forces 
merely in that the supersensuous forces lie out of the range of 
sensuous perception ; and that is really the same idea we want 
to express by the term immaterial forces. These explanations 
are indeed only necessary for those who are not capable of 
understanding anything but what they can grasp, or are con- 
tentedly convinced that what lies out of the range of their 
grip does not exist at all — is not. 

It is scarcely necessary to again detail the psychical forces of 
man at this time. We have largely treated of them in the course 
of this work under the name of primitive forces. The psychical 
forces in their union constitute the soul, while all the material 
forces in their union constitute the body. Man, then, so long 
as he lives upon this earth, is a system of interblending mate- 
rial and immaterial forces, and not a juggling together of two 
diametrically opposite things — spirit and body; the first 
imaginary, divested of all substantiality (regarded by some 
church-creeds as an undefined something and yet nothing, 



SOUL AND BODY. 355 

and by materialists as a mere function of the brain), and the 
latter imaginary, degraded to a mere heap of dirt, or idolized 
as the all of all. Man is a system of interblending material and 
immaterial forces which we will try to examine still further. 

The ultimate points to which physiological and microscopic 
anatomical researches have reached, and will ever attain to, 
are the bioplasts — microscopical bodies too minute to be 
weighed, and which appear perfectly structureless, colorless, 
and transparent and semifluid. The smallest of them are 
spherical, and the largest assume the spherical form when free 
to move in a fluid or semifluid medium. There is not one 
portion of a living, growing tissue the five hundredth part of 
an inch in extent, in which bioplasts cannot be demonstrated. 
They are separated from one another at every period of life, in 
every part of the body, by a distance little more than the one 
thousandth part of an inch. Bioplasts are prior to the cells, the 
latter being products of the former, or material formed. Indeed 
all formed material grows out of bioplasts and constitutes the 
body of the living thing. (92, Beale's Protoplasm.) 

Now let us suppose we could, by chemical agencies, dissolve 
all the formed material of the body without destroying its 
bioplasts — as we can dissolve by hydrochloric acid the calcic 
elements of any bony structure without destroying its organic 
constituents — we should then have a body left of such an 
attenuated form, that it would appear as a transparent object, 
although in its outlines, height, width, depth and internal 
arrangement corresponding exactly to the original body, be- 
cause the bioplasts are not further apart from one another 
than the one thousandth part of an inch in any part of the 
living body. But still it would represent only material ele- 
ments ; namely, that portion of the body out of which origin- 
ally all the formed constituents are evolved. 

All bioplasts appear alike. It is impossible to distinguish 
the bioplasts which are to evolve the oak from those which 
are the germ of a vertebrate animal; nor can any difference 
be discovered between the bioplasts of the lowest, simplest, 
epithelial scale of man's organism, and those from which the 
nerve-cells of his brain are to be evolved. Neither would the 



356 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

most careful microscopical observation, nor the most skilful 
chemical analysis enable us to distinguish the bioplasts ob- 
tained from the body of an ape from those taken from a man, 
a dog, or a fish. Yet we know that the life-history of these 
bioplasts is very different. Two forms of living matter (bio- 
plasts) may be indistinguishable by observation or experiment, 
and yet they may be as widely removed from one another as 
are the poles. The remarkable differences, however, are not 
of a kind to be expressed in any terms known to physics or 
chemistry. The differences are of the vital kind ; and although 
not recognizable by the balance or the microscope, their ex- 
istence must be admitted, unless all the subsequent structural 
differences resulting from changes in the bioplasts can be 
otherwise adequately accounted for. (Compare Beale's Bio- 
plasm, p. 17, and Protoplasm, pp. 284 and 286.) 

Dr. Beale comes to the same results at which we have 
arrived ; namely, that the living tissue consists of still other 
forces than those which make up its material body, and which 
lie entirely out of the reach of any and all mechanical and 
chemical means of detection; for without corresponding forces 
a change in the action (motion) is as incomprehensible as it 
would be illogical to admit. 

Between the single protoplasts, wherever found, no kind of 
distinction can be made by any means, and yet their products 
are vastly different. Out of the one kind grow bones, out 
of another muscles, out of another fluids, out of another nerves, 
out of another brain, etc. The protoplasts, then, must contain 
forces specific in their kind, forces unknown to physics or 
chemistry, but nevertheless as real as the protoplasts 'them- 
selves which embody them. 

Here, then, we arrive at the point where material forces 
interblend with immaterial forces, with forces which by means 
of the protoplasts project their own essence, being and meaning . 
into the material world, and thus give rise to a material ex- 
pression of their own existence. They must, then, constitute 
in themselves a complex of forces — which must be a prototype 
of their material expression, just as the complex of protoplasts 
corresponds precisely in all its parts to the body from which 



SOUL AND BODY. 357 

the formed material we might suppose to have been removed. 
To say the same thing in other words, the immaterial forces 
impart to the protoplasts their own nature, and thus work out 
through them the different kinds of formed material of which 
the material body consists. They are the builders of the body. 
Those, for instance, which control the bioplasts out of which 
a particular bone, or muscle, or fluid, or nerve, or part of 
brain, etc., is growing, must be the precise prototype of these 
several formations, and, paradoxical as it may sound, the 
various and manifold constituents of the material body must 
have their several exact prototypes in these immaterial forces 
which govern the bioplasts, by means of which all living 
bodies derive their formed material. 

This implies that the body is but the material expression of 
its immaterial forces, which are the prototype of the entire 
bodily conformation. If we could see this prototype with our 
natural eyes or their auxiliaries, we would behold an exact 
counterpart of the material body in all its details and work- 
ings; it would be the immaterial body of the material thing. 

Applied to man, it is all the same. By means of the proto- 
plasm the entire human body is gradually evolved, as the 
structureless, transparent, semifluid, microscopic particles are 
transformed into definite shapes, into the special constituents 
of the body, all accurately coadjusted to one another and pre- 
cisely adapted to the various functions of this wonderful 
machine. We see in this process all mechanical and chemical 
means used to advantage, but always under the regulation of 
a higher law by an unknown vital power. 

The existence of this vital power (Lebenskraft) has frequently 
been denied by modern science and as often reaffirmed. 
What is it? As a single poiver it surely has no existence, just 
as little as the " understanding," the " reasoning power," the 
" will-power," etc., have any existence as single powers of 
the mind, unless taken in an abstract sense. (Compare the cor- 
responding chapters of this work.) Hence the denial of " a 
vital power." There is not a vital power, but there are as 
many powers as there are immaterial forces acting in the 
billions of bioplasts, by means of which they incarnate them- 
selves in the material world. 



358 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

These immaterial forces build up the entire body, govern 
and regulate the nervous and digestive apparatus, the respira- 
tory and circulatory organs, the bones, muscles and skin — 
in short, all the organs and functions of the body; and we have 
called them in 1 the vital senses, inasmuch as they also per- 
ceive and announce the regularity or irregularity with which 
the functioned vitales of the bodily organism are going on. 

Another class of immaterial forces are those which we have 
detailed through the entire work as the primitive forces of our 
senses in connection with their organs. Still another class, 
very closely connected with the latter, are the immaterial 
forces which permeate the minute bioplasts known under the 
name "granules," and are "directly concerned in mental 
action." " The number of these bioplasts and nerve fibres is 
altogether beyond calculation. A portion of gray matter upon 
the surface of a convolution not larger than the head of a very 
small pin, will contain portions of many thousands of nerve 
fibres, the distal ramifications of which may be in very dis- 
tant and different parts of the body." " In these highest bio- 
plasts the ' vital power' (the immaterial forces) determines 
movements which, by reacting upon the previously formed 
mechanism, may give rise to the most complex phenomena. 
In this mental apparatus the ' will' is the ' power' which de- 
termines the movements of the matter of bioplasts taking part 
in the phenomena of the mind. This is the highest vital action 
with which we are acquainted, but clearly to be included in the 
same category as the vital actions which determine the active 
movement of the matter in the simplest forms of bioplasm, as 
that of an amoeba, or a white blood-corpuscle, or other bioplast. 
The movement of this highest form of bioplasm reacts upon 
a wonderfully elaborate apparatus, parts of which are in close 
relationship with the mental bioplasts. Changes excited in 
the apparatus are the immediate consequence of the vital 
movements. These last only are truly mental, while the ex- 
pression of thought is but a result of the influence of the mental 
vital action [the action of the immaterial forces — Author] upon 
the mechanism concerned in expression, without which thought 
could not be rendered evident to another person. A great dis- 



SOUL AND BODY. 359 

tinction must, indeed, be drawn between the thought and the 
expression of the thought." (Beale's Bioplasm, p. 208.) 

Thus we are again forced to the conclusion that back of the 
protoplasts exists a complete organized system of immaterial 
forces, which is the exact prototype of the material human 
body. "VVe may call it an immaterial body, if that expression 
is rightly understood ; or, according to Paul, a spiritual body. 
It is the human soul — that being of which most men have but a 
shadowy idea, because they have never been accustomed to 
self-observation. The soul consists of that organized system 
of immaterial forces by which it projects itself, on the one 
hand, into the material w r orld. The soul consists, therefore, of 
an immaterial nervous, respiratory, circulatory, generative, 
muscular, bony and cutaneous system ; has eyes, ears, nose, 
mouth and all the organs in every particular as expressed 
materially in the human body. On the other hand, by its 
higher immaterial forces, the higher senses, it develops into 
all those conscious modifications of which we have been treat- 
ing in this work as cognitions, conations and feelings, and all 
their wonderful combinations. 

This is the soul of man ; not a nonentity, or a mere property 
of material forces, but the highest complex of organized im- 
material forces, with capabilities higher than any other being 
known on earth. It is the real we ourselves, that self-conscious 
being, made capable, by its own incarnation, of living, thriving 
and acting in this material world. 

The development of the primitive forces into the different 
conscious modifications (cognitions, conations and feelings) we 
call mind; and mind, according to Hamilton, is that which 
perceives, thinks, feels, wills and desires. 

The spirit of man is the developed soul in its higher and 
lower senses, with an immaterial body of its own, its imma- 
terial vital forces or vital senses. 

The body is the material projection of the soul by means of 
the bioplasts from which all the formed material is derived. 

How intimate this connection and relation between soul 
and body (that is, between the immaterial or psychical and 
the material or corporeal forces) is , can be further shown by the 
fact that they both are developed according to the same laws. 



360 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

First, then, the psychical forces require for their evolution 
external stimuli. The psychical forces tend toward the ex- 
ternal stimuli and are specifically modified by them. As spe- 
cific modifications they endure in the form of vestiges, which 
distinctly differ from each other according to the elements 
(stimuli) from which they arise. 

The case is exactly similar with our body. The structure- 
less and colorless bioplasts (corporeal forces) tend to move 
toward the pabulum which they are about to take up and 
transform. In this way formed material results, which may be 
solid, fluid or gaseous, soft or hard, colored or colorless; and 
this relation is definite, so that from the same kind of living 
matter under similar conditions the same formed substances 
result. 

Secondly. In the soul mobile elements (primitive forces and 
stimuli, so long as they have not yet united in fixed forms) 
flow from one mental modification to another, and accumulate 
on them and excite them. By this process quiescent (uncon- 
scious) modifications are roused into consciousness, painful 
modifications are driven away by pleasurable ones, and con- 
versely, etc. 

In the body we find exactly similar phenomena. Its fluid 
and mobile elements diffuse on all sides and are assimilated 
by the protoplasm. New material is formed, and old material 
is carried off. In this way existing healthy parts of the body 
are strengthened and sickly and disorganized parts are re- 
stored to a healthy condition, and conversely, etc. The so- 
called " vis medicatrix naturse " obviously consists in this trans- 
ference of mobile elements. 

Thirdly. In the soul, like attracts like and coalesces into 
one whole. 

This law prevails in the body as well. The fresh material 
is converted by the protoplasm into its own kind, and out of it 
again grows the various and specifically formed material. 
Accordingly, the original formation of the body, such as 
occurs in the mother's womb, is, as it were, the prototype and 
original that will be copied all our life long. Fresh hair 
and nails are always like the old. Lost tissue (skin, bone) is 



SOUL AND BODY. 361 

reproduced in such a way that it, at least in the main, resembles 
the old. Even deformities, provided they originated with the 
body, continue themselves, e. g., six fingers instead of five, a 
crooked spine, etc. Later growth and development does not 
transform them into something opposite to what they were 
first, and so on. 

Fourthly. In the soul originate constantly fresh primitive 
forces, which process we shall consider more fully in the next 
chapter. 

After what has been stated, it needs no detailed exposition 
to show that the body does the same. Nourishment is assim- 
ilated by the protoplasm and changed into matter of its own 
kind, that is, into fresh corporeal forces analogous to those 
already existing. 

Thus, as the same laws govern the development of soul and 
body, there must surely exist a close relationship between 
psychical and corporeal forces. Although we have taken 
great pains to prove that " matter is force," and that " soul is 
force," and thereby have apparently favored the monistic 
theory, there is still left a wide difference between " soul-force" 
and "matter-force." Let us state the question fairly and 
squarely : What is the fundamental distinction between psychical 
and corporeal forces, if there be any ? 

The soul is constantly acted upon by external stimuli, and 
by this action the innate capacity of the primitive soul-forces 
of becoming conscious is developed into actual consciousness, 
which development endures even when, by the removal of 
the stimulant, it turns again from the excited to the unexcited 
condition, or to a vestige (97, 98). The body likewise assim- 
ilates nutritive elements from the external world ; but its forces 
never become conscious by so doing. 

All the primitive soul-forces developed by external elements 
and thus carried on toward perfection, follow their respective 
affinities and coalesce in a whole, the effect of which is that 
more clearly conscious modifications are produced in proportion 
as the vestiges from which they result are more numerous; 
but, however complex the resulting whole may be, however 
varied may be the association into groups and series, vestiges 
24 



362 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

never produce anything extended in space. The soul never 
swells or enlarges the head, however much it may have en- 
larged its acquisitions by study. The corporeal forces, also, 
developed by nutritive elements and thus carried on toward 
perfection, follow their respective affinities and fuse into a 
whole, the effect of which is that the formed material thus pro- 
duced causes gradually the development of the various organs, 
and the consequent growth of the entire body in all three dimen- 
sions until it reaches a certain size ; but, however complex and 
extended in space that body may be, it never develops any- 
thing like consciousness. Does it really not ? Are not tooth- 
ache, stomachache, hunger, thirst, and all the numerous 
aches bodily feelings? No, they are not. The body or its 
corporeal forces act merely in these instances upon the vital 
senses, the lowest psychical forces we possess, which perceive 
this action, just as light or sound act upon sight and hearing. 
The body never feels. The body makes us feel if anything is 
the matter with it; i. e., the corporeal forces never develop con- 
sciousness, just as little as any other material force; but they 
act precisely and quite unmistakably upon their correspond- 
ing psychical forces as other external stimuli do. What we 
call bodily feelings or sensations are the impressions made by 
the body upon our vital senses, which are of a 'psychical nature; 
and therefore, even here, the distinction between psychical 
and corporeal forces remains sharply defined. By the law of 
the attraction of similars the soul-forces acquire consciousness, 
but always remain spaceless ; whereas corporeal forces, accord- 
ing to the same law, gain in local extension and fixity, but 
never attain to consciousness. 

111. Generation of Fresh Primitive Forces. 

Directly we apprehend or perceive anything, the primitive 
forces are acted upon by external stimuli, and are correspond- 
ingly modified by them (4). Whoever has been in an exhi- 
bition of works of art or industry, in a gallery of pictures, or 
a museum of natural history, etc., and spent one or two hours 
in carefully examining the objects there, without feeling con- 



GENERATION OF FRESH PRIMITIVE FORCES. 363 

siderable fatigue and relaxation in his visual forces? The 
same effect is produced on the auditory forces at a concert, if 
we listen to the music with close attention for several hours. 
The like is the case with the primitive forces of taste and smell, 
when they are stimulated for a long time ; and he who has 
spent the day in chopping wood will not deny that his mus- 
cular forces flag considerably in the evening. In like manner 
we feel tired, even though the senses be unemployed, when we 
think of anything intently for a long period, or keep our men- 
tal modifications awake, and, as it were, in agitation, by cares 
and anxieties, etc. 

From these illustrations it is clear that the available and un- 
occupied primitive forces decrease in proportion either as they are 
acted upon by corresponding external stimuli or are spent as mobile 
elements. After a sound sleep the expended forces seem to 
be replaced again. Indeed, by the rest alone we indulge in 
after exertion we feel refreshed, and even sometimes by chang- 
ing one kind of activity for another. A social conversation 
after a hard day's work enlivens us afresh. These facts prove 
that not all the primitive forces throughout the soul have been 
spent, but only in those systems which have especially been 
occupied by work. 

The restoration of the consumed forces takes place mainly 
during sleep, if not exclusively during that time of rest. Sleep 
consists of the predominant assimilating activity of the corpo- 
real forces, a condition periodically necessitated whenever the 
primitive forces, mental or corporeal, have become exhausted 
by the performance of a certain amount of work (103). The 
generation of corporeal forces Dr. Beale describes as follows : 
" In the process of nutrition pabulum passes into living bio- 
plasm, and is then converted into this substance." " The for- 
mation of bioplasm from the pabulum is an essentially vital act, 
and one which occurs in every form of nutritive process. The 
changes which occur during this process, however, are very 
difficult to investigate, if, indeed, they be not beyond the 
province of investigation altogether." " It is interesting, how- 
ever, to inquire by what means the soluble pabulum is caused 
to pass into the bioplasm. No form of attraction or affinity 



364 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

with which we are acquainted will account for the passage of 
pabulum toward and into living matter. The question is one 
upon which I have ventured to speculate. The tendency every 
mass of bioplasm exhibits to divide into smaller portions, each 
part appearing to move aw T ay from other portions, suggests the 
idea of there being some power of centrifugal movement in 
operation. The moving away of particles from a centre would 
necessarily create a tendency of the fluid around to move 
toward the centre. I think, therefore, that the nutrient pabu- 
lum is, as it were, drawn in by the centripetal currents, excited 
by the centrifugal movements of the particles of the living 
bioplasm." (Beale's Protoplasm, pp. 266 and 277.) 

" The bioplasm alone possesses power of growth and of pro- 
ducing matter like itself out of materials differing from it 
materially in composition, properties and powers. 

" The pabulum does not shade by imperceptible gradations 
into the living matter, but the passage from one state into the 
other is sudden and abrupt, although there may be much living 
matter mixed with little lifeless matter, or vice versa" (Beale's 
Protoplasm, p. 185). 

Viewing these quotations we see that bioplasm generates 
itself by an unknown vital act, an act by which it assimilates 
pabulum of a nature materially different from its own, and 
converts it suddenly and abruptly into matter like itself. In- 
explicable as is this conversion of pabulum into bioplasm or 
corporeal forces — as inexplicable as all processes in regard to 
life — we still see, at least, the material out of which these living 
forces (bioplasm) are prepared. This is not so easily shown 
in regard to the generation of psychical forces. And yet a 
restoration of the same is not only an absolute necessity, but a 
fact we can observe daily. 

This problem has never been thought of before Beneke, and 
even since his researches have been published, years ago, it has 
not been made a special study by psychologists, w T ho never 
penetrated to an understanding of the nature of the primitive 
forces of the soul, just as little as the physiologists knew any- 
thing of bioplasm before Beale, although the name bioplasm 
was used to signify quite a number of different substances. 
(Compare Beale's Protoplasm, p. 88, etc.) 



GENERATION OF FRESH PRIMITIVE FORCES. 365 

Let us now, with the plummet of Beneke, try to sound this 
subject, in order to find what can be elicited concerning a pro- 
cess that is performed in the hidden workshop of nature, by 
logical reasoning upon facts that lie before us. 

Consider the following: In classifying a number of minerals 
I apply my sight-forces. After some time I grow so tired I 
cannot make headway. Next morning all goes on very well 
again. Another example: I think for a long time upon a 
knotty point, but cannot succeed in making the matter clear 
to my mind. After a sound sleep the new exertions bestowed 
upon it bring me much nearer a solution, and finally I master 
the subject. We go on a pleasure trip per pedes apostolorum. 
We feel tired after the first day's outing ; but if our first ex- 
ertions were not too great, and our feet not blistered, we get on 
better the next and the following days. 

It seems, thus, that in the soul, as well as in the body, the 
greatest number of primitive forces are formed exactly where the 
greatest number has been expended. 

It is important to bear this first conclusion in mind. It 
may lead us to one of the sources (and materials) whence the 
new primitive forces are derived. The primitive forces are 
consumed in proportion, either as they are acted upon by 
corresponding external stimuli, or are spent as mobile ele- 
ments. The first of these uses — the primitive forces being 
acted upon by external stimuli — for our present consideration 
is the most important. 

What are external stimuli ? In 78 we have defined the 
various stimuli which excite corresponding sensory organs as 
agencies, the essential nature of which consists of motion, of 
motion of the ether, of the air, of solids, of fluids and of mole- 
cules. We may generalize this by saying : External stimuli 
are all those terrestrial and sidereal influences capable of affect- 
ing the senses. In affecting the senses the stimuli modify the 
corresponding primitive forces in a more or less enduring 
manner, forming sensations, perceptions, etc. ; they must, there- 
fore, be considered not as a mere abstract motion, but as mov- 
ing matter of their own kind, differing entirely from the primitive 
forces as the pabulum does from the bioplasm. As little as 



366 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

formed matter can grow out of pabulum, just as little can 
external influences produce conscious modifications. The 
production of modifications is solely the property of the primi- 
tive forces. The external influences are merely the means of 
modifying in a definite manner the primitive forces. 

But these external stimuli are moving matter, which is re- 
ceived and somehow appropriated by the psychical forces and 
thus converted into forces of their own kind. How ? Somehow ! 
It is of no use speculating about this deepest of all life-pro- 
cesses. Only one thing seems certain. We have to deal with 
forces on both sides, with so-called material forces (matter) on 
the one hand, and with so-called immaterial forces (primitive 
soul-substance) on the other. But as we do not understand the 
nature of either any further than their effects reveal, we might 
as well content ourselves with the conclusion that as forces they 
must have some relationship to each other, and may be con- 
vertible into each other. We might say that the received 
external stimuli, by an unknown life-process, are converted 
into fresh soul-forces, just as pabulum, by an unfathomable 
vital process, is converted into bioplasm. And this would 
appear, after all, nothing more than a higher differentiation 
of forces by the innate transcendental (supersensuous) nature 
of living things, a process just as inexplicable at the lowest 
beginning of life as it is in the highest. This view is strength- 
ened when we consider the above-stated experience : The 
greatest number of primitive soul and body-forces are gener- 
ated at the point where they have been spent most largely in 
the appropriation of external stimuli. A large amount of 
such stimuli must naturally have aggregated around and 
about the newly formed modifications ; and it appears to be 
a logical conclusion, if we take the partially appropriated 
external elements as one source of material from which fresh 
psychical forces are generated. Thus we might consider the 
newly formed psychical modifications as the very birth-place of 
freshly generated psychical forces. 

When we further consider that even bioplasm is living 
matter only because it is associated and endowed with psy- 
chical forces (by which it is enabled to produce formed matter; 



GENERATION OF FRESH PRIMITIVE FORCES. 367 

or, as Beale has it, it is the " vital power " of the bioplasm that 
does it), and that the highest bioplasts are directly concerned 
in psychical operations, it is surely not out of the way of 
logical reasoning to suppose that the nourishment of the bio- 
plasts has also something to do with the generation of psy- 
chical forces; and that, therefore, bodily forces contribute likewise 
to, and are a joint source in, the generation of fresh psychical forces. 
The objection that we thereby degrade the soul to a material 
thing, is not well put. In 109 we have shown that there are 
no such two things as matter and force, but that all is force 
which in the course of evolution is gradually differentiated to 
higher and higher states of being; and I do not see any cogent 
reason why bodily forces could and should not be sublimated 
into higher psychical forces, especially as bodily and psychical 
forces exist in such close connection as they actually do. 
How could they reciprocally influence each other if they were 
of a nature entirely and diametrically opposed to each other? 
The intimate union between soul and body teaches the contrary. 

The terrestrial and sidereal influences, then, in the form of ex- 
ternal stimuli and bodily forces, seem to be the two main 
sources whence the material for the generation of fresh psy- 
chical forces are derived. We might add to them a transcen- 
dental source. Man is planted in material soil. He grows and 
unfolds into spiritual development, into a sphere that is most 
probably the moving cause of all terrestrial evolutions. We 
cannot say how much of sustenance the human soul may con- 
stantly receive from that spiritual source. 

Still another question concerns us here: Are the primitive 
soul-forces generated in one continuous mass or singly? 
When we take a view of a city or another complex object for 
the first time, we do not gain at a glance anything like a 
perfect notion of it, not even when the object is presented to 
our eyes all at once. We are obliged to examine in detail. 
It is only after single apprehensions of the several parts have 
been obtained and united by mobile elements into one whole 
or group that we gain a perfect knowledge of an object. This 
speaks clearly for the assumption that the primitive soul-forces 
must have been formed singly and not as a continuous mass. 



368 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

Although it is true that we gain, even at a glance, a kind of 
total image of an object, and that image is clearer the more 
energetic our primary forces are (7), and more precise, indi- 
vidual and exact, in proportion as they are more sensitive (5) ; 
yet such an effect is produced only so far as we have already 
within us something ready to be reproduced by this impres- 
sion; a complete and perfect image it certainly is not. When, 
therefore, we find some men who are able to comprehend a 
highly complex object in a very brief time, they do so because 
they already possess a larger quantity of modifications corres- 
ponding to it, and because of the greater vivacity and quick- 
ness of their visual forces, by which their time is economized. 
But particular and repeated examination of the object, by 
which alone a perfect notion of the whole can be obtained, is 
as necessary in their case as it is with other persons. Our 
visual forces do not work as a mass, but invariably as single 
and individual forces, as it were, point by point, or drop by 
drop. Nor is the case different with the sense of hearing. In 
a piece of music, say a quartette, a chorus, where four or more 
voices or instruments are heard together, the ear only appre- 
hends a few sounds definitely at the one time. If the prac- 
ticed musician is able to hear more than one who is no 
musician, he is indebted for that ability to the numerous 
vestiges which simultaneously listen, which he had ac- 
quired one by one at some previous time ; for vestiges are 
able to operate more in a mass simply because it is only 
necessary that they be reproduced. The elaboration, the 
development of the primitive forces, their modification by 
external stimuli, on the contrary, always take place singly, 
one by one. It is with the psychical forces as it is with the 
corporeal forces, the bioplasts; they are not one mass, but con- 
sist of innumerable microscopical particles of a jelly-like, trans- 
parent stuff. We may infer, then, that the primitive forces are 
generated from the very start as single forces, one by one, like the 
bioplasts. 

We must add still another point. In 24 w T e spoke of the 
quantitative relation between external stimuli and primitive 
forces. We found that the former might be insufficient, full, 



GENERATION OF FRESH PRIMITIVE FORCES. 369 

very full, or too strong (either suddenly or gradually too 
strong); all of which conditions occur. If, for instance, we 
were to light a room, from an unsatisfactory twilight up to 
the most dazzling splendor by degrees (and we were to let all 
these light-stimuli, in all their degrees, successively affect our 
visual forces), a dim light would prove unsatisfactory, because 
the stimulant would be too little for our sight-forces. One, 
two or three candles would suit them ; ten, twenty or thirty 
would set them in full swing; and a thousand, all concentrated 
and blazing together, would upset them. This upsetting would 
not occur once or twice, as a matter of chance. It would recur 
regularly as often as we repeated the experiment. In the 
other senses experience shows that the same thing occurs. 
Hence it follows that the primitive forces are, from the very first, 
exactly alike as respects their strength; i. e., their capacity of appre- 
hending and receiving a certain amount of external elements (that 
is, be it well observed, the single, individual primitive forces 
of one and the same system). It is true that in different men 
this capacity is also different. One finds himself comfortable 
under a given stimulant, a stimulant which would be too much 
for another. But in the same person we find all the primitive 
forces, so far as they belong to the same class, of the same 
capacity; and when they are weaker, as in many cases of sick- 
ness, where one cannot bear the glare of ordinary daylight, 
or the ordinary sound of the voices of those around, etc., the 
freshly generated forces are all, either of one or several or of 
all our sensory systems, equally depressed. It is noticeable 
that at such times the bodily forces, which are the support of 
the psychical, are below their ordinary strength. 

In summing up we arrive, then, at the following results: 

1. Fresh primitive forces are generated mainly during sleep. 

2. Where most primitive forces have been expended, there 
most are generated. 

3. The forces are formed by some kind of transformation 
(which constitutes the most secret process of life in the soul, as 
well as in all living things) from a portion of the external 
stimuli taken up and assimilated ; and, therefore, 

4. The special centres for the formation of fresh primitive 



370 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

forces are the newly produced sensations and perceptions (4); 
and, in like manner, 

5. The bodily forces contribute their share to the formation 
of fresh primitive forces. 

6. The primitive forces are formed in the soul from the first, 
singly, one by one, in the same way as the bioplasts are formed 
in single microscopical particles ; and, 

7. All forces that belong to one and the same class are 
exactly alike as respects their strength and qualities. 

They all deserve the name of primitive forces, because, al- 
though of later growth, they do not differ either in essence or 
in operation from those primitive forces of which the soul 
consists at birth. We ought not to speak, then, of a power or 
a faculty of sight, hearing, etc., unless we mean to use this 
term in abstracto; for, in fact, the power of sight consists of 
numberless single concrete visual forces, as the material body 
consists of countless numbers of bioplasts. 

On the whole, it is but right to add that we do not consider 
this exposition of the subject of the generation of the primitive 
soul-forces as exhaustive. It may even, in some of its propo- 
sitions, be faulty. All this, however, does not alter the fact 
that it is at least an attempt to clear up a subject which, before 
Beneke, had not even been made a problem to be solved by 
"psychological science." 

112. Final and Necessary Separation of Soul from Body — 
Death. — Continuance of the Soul after Death. 

If all and everything that takes place in the soul with any 
approach to perfection leaves a vestige, and if such vestige is 
associated with those resembling it that have already been 
formed, the soul must be continually increasing in growth and in- 
ternal strength up to the very moment of death. 

Is this borne out by experience? Apparently not, at least 
not always ; for we find that not the mentally weak only, but 
not unfrequently the strongest souls also, fall, at an advanced 
age, into a condition of idiocy. Now, although numbers may 
be instanced who, up to the last moment of advanced old age, 



SEPARATION OF SOUL FROM BODY. 371 

showed no such symptoms, still that does not do away with 
the other and opposite fact. This much, however, is obvious 
at first sight : This kind of idiocy, which is completely differ- 
ent from the congenital form, must be based, not on some law 
of nature, but on something accidental and contingent, for 
otherwise it would constantly occur in all old people. At any 
rate we must consider this, as well as other phenomena of age, 
somewhat more closely. 

Anyone who has been moderately attentive to what passes 
within him, must admit that there are occasional periods in 
his life when mental activity is all but impossible. After a 
busy day such moments are especially common. Strive as 
you will to reflect on some subject, all remains dark and un- 
conscious. In many maladies this is so much the case that 
the patient seems to do little more than vegetate. 

But so soon as these conditions have passed away the soul 
is again the same active, vigorous, strong soul that it ^as 
before. Hence the weakness, the impotence, could in no 
wise have affected the inbeing of the soul, could not have 
touched the acquired modifications themselves, which are the 
real estate of the soul ; for if these modifications had been de- 
stroyed, by what magic could the soul have become again, 
directly after the illness, exactly the same as it was before? We 
have considered the true cause of such passing weakness in 13, 
and discovered that it is to be found solely in the deficiency of 
either fresh or partially modified primitive forces (modified 
by general stimuli), since they are the means by which the 
unexcited becomes excited, the unconscious is made conscious. 
Without agitation the strongest and clearest psychical modifi- 
cations are as good as non-existent. Consequently, a deficiency 
in the elements which arouse consciousness, must always pro- 
duce either a total cessation or a partial obstruction in the cur- 
rent of our thoughts. 

Thus, after a hard day's work, when most of the primitive 
forces have been expended in forming vestiges, few only remain 
that can still receive general external stimuli. We may fall 
asleep or become unconscious in spite of all that happens 
around us. We are exhausted, that is, our primitive forces are 



372 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

spent. The same must be the case in many maladies, where 
either the generation of new primitive forces is impeded, or 
some damage is done to the connecting vestiges. The latter is 
notably the case when in some violent sickness the whole 
memory (as people call it) appears to be lost or deranged to 
such a degree, that the patient after recovery has to learn to 
read, write, cipher, etc., over again. Experience has proved 
that the forgotten education is re-acquired with remarkable 
quickness. After a few weeks' work the whole former knowl- 
edge is again produced, i. e., active, a knowledge that at first it 
took years to aquire. The malady, therefore, only affected 
w T hat was constructed out of mobile elements namely ; the as- 
sociations and connections between the mental modifications, and not 
the modifications themselves. These latter continued to exist, 
but their connecting vestiges had, by weakness or impediment, 
become so damaged that the usual exciting mobile elements, 
which always flow in the direction of the connecting vestiges, 
were interrupted in their natural course and failed to find access 
to the corresponding modifications. So soon as this damage 
is repaired by new connecting vestiges, the acquired mental 
modifications can be roused again into consciousness as before 
the disability. Hence there is nothing inexplicable in the 
above-mentioned attacks of idiocy or incapacity for mental 
exertion. It appears that such apparent lapses of knowledge were 
only stoppages in the process by which our psychical modifications 
become reproduced in consciousness, caused partly by a deficiency of 
mobile elements, partly by damage done to the connecting vestiges. 

Sometimes the cause of impediment lies in a derangement of 
the brain or certain parts of it, a normal state of which is a 
necessary condition for the exhibition of mental phenomena. 

We see this particularly in the affliction called aphasia. In 
a moment it may unfit a person to express a single thought, 
although, in fact, his thoughts are unimpaired, and the organs 
of speech without fault. But it has been found in many cases 
that a little clot of blood in the median artery of the left frontal 
lobe, and especially in its third frontal convolution, impedes 
the circulation in these parts and thus cuts off the supply of 
corporeal forces which are needed for the execution of those 



SEPARATION OF BODY FROM SOUL. 373 

nervous motions by which the psychical force is converted into 
corporeal ; in other words, by which thought can be expressed 
in audible language. Aphasia consists, therefore, in a breakage 
of the connecting line of forces which mediate in the con- 
version of psychic into corporeal forces; but it is not a damage 
to the mind itself. 

Now, if we should be able to show that as we grow older the 
elements of consciousness must needs decrease, we would have 
an explanation of the idiocy which sometimes accompanies 
advanced age, and we should have proved that it is not a weak- 
ening of the inbeing of the soul itself but merely a defective excita- 
tion of our mental modifications. 

If we observe a child we find it almost entirely the slave of 
external stimuli. A fly on the wall destroys the child's atten- 
tion, and a cart passing by the window attracts the little one's 
eyes toward it. It resists impressions of pain as little as it 
does those of pleasure ; it is equally the captive of either. 

A boy — the child grown a little older — is far less dependent 
on external stimuli. He can endure pain and abstain from 
pleasure. He can in general withdraw his attention at will 
from external things, and he begins to elaborate the knowl- 
edge he has gained in a more independent manner. 

A mature man occupies himself by preference with his early 
acquisitions, and is often only with difficulty open to the recep- 
tion of new truths, especially when they run counter to his 
former notions. Hence it is that among all classes of men who 
have attained this riper age, we so frequently find an attach- 
ment to the usual and beaten path. In old age this is very much 
more the case. Of many we say they are dead to all progress. The 
following observations will reveal the cause of these phenom- 
ena. When we meet agriculturists, what is their favorite 
topic of conversation ? Agriculture. Go into the company of 
teachers and you will find that education is the staple of their 
talk. Go among physicians, theologians, botanists; listen 
to merchants, mechanics, soldiers, etc., and see whether their 
conversation does not mainly turn on their respective occu- 
pations. Nor can it be otherwise ; for that which is strongest, 
that which is based on the largest number of vestiges, must be the 



374 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

easiest to rise into consciousness. This is the case with all men 
as respects concepts relating to their daily occupations. Such 
concepts are nearest to consciousness. 

Now, since our mental modifications can only be made con- 
scious by the addition of mobile elements, we see that these 
elements flow to or are attracted in the largest amount by 
those mental modifications which are strongest in the soul, or 
which consist of the largest number of vestiges. (99-102.) 
This fact explains the phenomena instanced above. In the 
child's soul there are as yet no modifications of very numerous 
vestiges, and hence the mobile elements are not particularly 
attracted by such modifications ; consequently the primitive 
forces are free and open to the influence and reception of external 
stimuli of any kind. They abandon themselves to whatever 
acts upon them. In the somewhat older boy the strength of 
his mental modifications is considerably greater than in the 
child, and therefore the mobile elements are attracted to these 
modifications more readily and render them conscious, and the 
mobile elements are in the same proportion drawn away from 
external impressions. Briefly : The more the mental modifications 
increase in the number of their vestiges (in strength), the more are the 
mobile elements applied to rendering them conscious, and the more 
are these elements withdrawn from the reception of fresh impressions. 

Hence, the man of mature age is more disposed to elaborate 
and use what he already knows, than to apply himself to ac- 
quire new information or aptitudes, while the old man has 
almost entirely broken with the external world. He lives in 
the past rather than in the present. Therefore, the strength of 
the internal being of the soul, which increases as we grow older, ipse 
facto, produces a decrease in the formation of new sensations and 
perceptions. 

But still more follows from this fact. We are aware that the 
mobile elements consist of fresh primitive forces, and of such 
as have been partially modified by external stimuli (32), but 
also that the primitive forces are generated by some unknown 
transformation through the medium of partially modified 
forces ; that, consequently, the newly produced sensations and 
perceptions must be regarded as the special centre and labora- 



SEPARATION OF SOUL FROM BODY. 375 

tory where fresh primitive forces are generated. What will be 
the consequence when the larger number of these primitive 
forces are spent in the excitation of those mental modifications 
which are now most numerous in vestiges, instead of being 
used (as heretofore) in the reception and assimilation of exter- 
nal stimuli ? There will be a corresponding decrease in the 
generation of fresh primitive forces. Consequently, it follows 
that, in proportion as a larger number of primitive forces are 
expended in the excitation of acquired mental modifications, 
both sources of the mobile elements are curtailed. External 
elements are taken up in a decreasing amount, and, as a conse- 
quence, fresh primitive forces are generated in a smaller amount. 

But more than that. It is an almost universal fact that old 
people complain of their poor memory. They have a com- 
plete and clear recollection of what they saw and did thirty, 
forty or fifty years ago, but they often forget what they saw 
and heard but yesterday. According to this, the primitive 
forces generated in old age are not only less in amount, but 
also less energetic or retentive. Thus each condition helps 
the other. External stimuli are taken up in continually 
decreasing numbers, and the body also, which has become 
rigid and brittle, is continuously less able to assist in the for- 
mation of new primitive forces. What other result, then, can 
follow, than that the mobile elements should constantly become less, 
and that the fresh primitive forces should become continually more 
and more imperfect f 

Now, if the primitive forces are the means by which the 
accumulated treasures of our soul, its acquired mental modi- 
fications, are rendered conscious, ought we to wonder that 
when they decrease the current of thought is less rapid, less 
comprehensive, or that at last the most cultivated soul retains 
in conscious existence but few mental modifications? This 
condition constitutes the idiocy of old age. 

It is, therefore, not in the least a consequence of any decrease 
in the strength of the inbeing of the soul — of the sum of its 
accumulated wealth ; but, on the contrary, it is an effect of the 
continually increasing strength of the soul 

Experience confirms this conclusion. It is told of Kant, 



376 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

" that at the time of his greatest weakness, when he was unable 
to express himself intelligibly about the commonest tilings, he 
gave astonishingly correct and precise answers when ques- 
tioned about matters of physical geography, natural history 
and chemistry, as well as about learned subjects in general." 
Now, if the internal, the real being of his soul, had been 
affected by this weakness, how would such answers have been 
possible, especially on the physiological ground that the brain 
and whole body is continually renewed at certain periods of 
time ? Would not the oldest and the more difficult have been 
destroyed before the latest and the easiest? Yet we have seen 
that, notwithstanding Kant's extreme weakness in other re- 
spects, it was exactly the older and the most complex modi- 
fications that were manifested with their wonted strength and 
clearness, while he was unable to give any account of objects 
he had seen around him only a moment before, etc. This 
story clearly proves that the primitive forces last generated 
were very weak — so weak, indeed, that impressions just made 
were either not retained by them at all, or only so feebly that 
he could not attain to a consciousness of them. 

Few aged men retain their mental vigor up to the time 
of their death, because few enjoy so happy a constitution 
that no essential diminution in the elements which excite con- 
sciousness occurs. In most men who reach old age there is a 
progressive decrease in the power of appropriating external 
elements, because the sense organs become less and less able 
to perform their functions and to assist the soul in its work. 
We have, then, arrived at these conclusions : 

1. Tliat the soul constantly increases in internal strength from 
birth to death. 

2. That this very increase in strength produces a constant dimi- 
nution in the mobile elements ; and that, consequently, 

3. The excitation to consciousness (not consciousness itself, 97, 
98) is more arid more impeded, until at last, when the genera- 
tion of fresh primitive forces is brought to a stand-still by the 
same cause, it stops altogether, and the soul abandons the 
body, in the society of which it is no longer able to increase 
its powers, and, consequently, is unable to make any further 



SEPARATION OF SOUL FROM BODY. 377 

progress. This is the death necessitated by nature. Death from 
disease requires no explanation. It is the result of the unfit- 
ness of the corporeal forces to longer sustain, as a necessary 
condition, the evolution of psychical forces. In both cases, 
however, the man dies, not because life (a general vital power) 
leaves him, but because the soul leaves the body, which, on 
that account, by no means ceases to live. What speaks for the 
continued existence of the soul after death ? The soul's con- 
stant increase and growth in strength up to its departure. 

The body grew and became strong in consequence of the 
increase in the number of its vestiges, and after having 
reached its prime gradually decreased again in strength. 
These changes are in accord with the laws of growth. An 
increase of the body's forces, unlike that of the soul, implies 
an increase in space ; and since the limit of its bulk is a given 
one (given at the first moment of its existence in the womb, 
as an inheritance from the parents), it necessarily follows that, 
as it never ceases to grow, that is, to form vestiges (as long as 
it lives), it must grow denser, must condensate so that its parti- 
cles, as they accumulate, press more closely one on the other; 
the different organs gradually grow harder, tougher, and even 
ossify, by which ossifying process the organs of nutrition are 
gradually diminished, and the capacity of forming fresh cor- 
poreal forces decreased. The final result of this change must 
be that the body becomes more and more unfit for the con- 
stantly growing soul, and a separation of the two must inev- 
itably follow — an event which is the necessary consequence 
of our constant growth, i. e., of the continuous generation of 
fresh vestiges both in soul and body. As the rising and setting 
of the sun is the result of one and the same law which re- 
volves the earth on its axis ; as summer and winter are pro- 
duced by the one immutable law which makes the earth 
revolve around the sun, so also the rise and decay of corporeal 
perfection depends on one and the self-same law, that of growth. 
Since this law incessantly operates in body and soul alike; 
since it never varies, never gives way to another; since, more- 
over, the chemical laws, to which " matter" is subject, remain 
invariably the same, it follows that the results must gradually 
25 



378 COMPLEMENTARY INQUIRIES. 

become more and more different. The body and soul grow 
asunder. "While the imjcliical forces have continually gained 
in strength and perfection, the corporeal have grown more and 
more dry, brittle, less elastic, coarser — in short, more and more 
unfit for psychical activities — which necessitates their dropping 
off and their final subjugation to the sole sway of chemical 
affinity. Now that their separation has been effected, is either 
of them destroyed? We know that not an atom of the body 
is lost. Why should the soul cease to exist? But how can 
those psychical forces (which we do not know otherwise than 
to originate and to grow in conjunction with material — corpo- 
real forces — a body) subsist without a body? How do we 
know that when these psychical forces leave the "material 
body" they are without a body? What has become of those 
"immaterial forces," without which material forces can never 
form a living being? (110,111). Is not force imperishable, 
whether material or immaterial ? If these immaterial forces 
were able and competent to mold the lowest material forces 
(in spite of their chemical affinities) into an harmonious organ- 
ism to serve as a medium for the development of psychical 
forces in this material world, it is quite likely that they will 
be sufficient also to supply them under conditions for which 
the " material forces " are no longer fit and suitable. There is 
no other way of escaping this proposition than to fall back 
upon the materialistic view that mind is a mere function of 
the brain ; and I hope to have sufficiently proven, in the physi- 
ological part of this w T ork, that such a view is possible only 
to a mind that is illogical enough to confound cause and con- 
dition. 

When the soul departs from the body it leaves as a perfectly 
organized being of immaterial forces, as fully substantial as 
any living bod^ ever was in this world, w^ith this difference 
only: It cannot be reached by any mechanical or chemical 
means of detection. It is then and there the same soul it 
w r as before, beautiful or ugly, good or bad, wise or foolish, 
corresponding exactly to the development which it has attained 
while associated with material forces. We are not yet done 
with this subject. 



PART VI. 



OCCULT PHENOMENA, 



113. Sensitivity. 



By referring to paragraphs 5 and 82 it will be seen that I 
need here merely state that the psychic primitive forces of 
man vary greatly in their acuteness or sensitiveness, not only 
in different individuals, but also in the different systems 
of one and the same individual. In the paragraphs referred 
to I dealt only with the ordinary occurrences of daily 
life. Exceptional cases did not come within the scope of those 
researches. We needed a generally accepted basis for our infer- 
ences. But, as we shall presently see, the instances cited do 
not by any means cover the whole ground of our subject. 

Sight. — Gustavus Anschutz, an artist-painter, in Vienna, 
was able to see on dark nights luminous emanations, not 
only from magnets and crystals, but also from the face and 
hands of his wife. The drawings and paintings he made 
thereof corresponded precisely with the description given by 
numerous sensitive persons who had previously and inde- 
pendently observed such " od-emanations " from different 
objects hundreds of times, in the dark room which Baron von 
Reichenbach had constructed for the purpose of examining 
this strange subject. (See Reichenbach's Dynamiten, Vol. II, 
p. 33. 

Another well-authenticated case is the luminous figure 
which Billing, the secretary of Pfeffel, saw on dark nights in 
Pfeffel's garden, always in the same spot. No other person 
saw it. Upon digging into that place a skeleton was found 

(379) 



380 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

immersed in lime, and after the removal of all the debris (lime 
and bones), no luminous figure ever again appeared to Billing 
on that spot, although in church-yards he still continued to 
see similar luminous figures arising from certain graves. 

This single instance is corroborated by many (although not 
individually authenticated) stories of persons who have seen 
similar luminous emanations on dark nights in church-yards 
and other places. Popular superstition believes them to be 
ghosts while, in fact, they are od-emanations strongly developed 
by chemical processes, but still only visible, in the absence 
of other light, to very sensitive eyes. The numerous and 
elaborate works of Eeichenbach on this subject abound in 
experiments which he instituted and controlled, by change of 
time, persons and things in a thousand different ways, to prove 
that sensitive persons can and do see in utter darkness, and, 
therefore, are able to move about and to find and describe 
things with almost as much ease as in daylight. 

Before such overwhelming testimony little weight need be 
attached to the opinion of seven Berlin professors, who declared 
"that the experiments exhibited by Baron v. Eeichenbach had 
not proved to them what he intended to prove," for the simple 
reason that these savants, notwithstanding polite invitations, 
did not come to examine when, after great labor and difficul- 
ties, Eeichenbach was ready to give this proof. During this 
Berlin episode (1861 and 1862) Eeichenbach succeeded in pro- 
curing another objective proof of the reality of luminous od- 
emanation, by its action upon photographic plates. For further 
detail see Eeichenbach's " Od'sche Begehenheiten zu Berlin in den 
Jahren 1861-1862." 

Hearing, smell and taste. — There are a number of persons who 
cannot bear the noise produced by rubbing paper over paper 
or over a table, or a hand over silk, or of hard things upon 
each other. All kinds of scraping, scratching, grating and like 
sounds affect them most disagreeably. 

Miss Nowotny often listened to the poles of magnets. She 
compared the sound which she perceived to the sound of a 
tuning-fork just when it ceases to vibrate, or with the dying 
away of a sound from an iEolian harp. Miss Maix and Miss 



SENSITIVITY. 381 

Sturmann perceived the same sound, but in an intermitting 
manner, the sounds and pauses repeating in regularly. Fric- 
tion applied to sulphur or glass or sealing-wax caused Miss 
. Nowotny to hear a fine hissing and crackling sound, a sound 
others could not perceive. (Reichenbach, Der sensitive Mensch, 
Vol. II., p. 458.) 

In regard to smell, we find the peculiarity of fine perception 
even more extended. Everybody, I might say, has met with 
persons who positively cannot endure the smell of some odors 
— odors, too, generally considered agreeable. Some faint away, 
some feel deathly sick at the stomach, some are seized with 
headache, etc., from being exposed to the effluvia of certain 
things (flowers, leather, metals, etc.). 

There are persons who can distinguish the different metals 
by the sense of smell alone (chromic acid, even through a her- 
metically closed glass bottle) ; who recognize their friends by 
smell, and distinguish a healthy from a sick person ; who 
assert — and their assertion has been put to the test — that 
the north pole of the magnet has an acid, while the south 
pole has a disagreeable alkaline smell. A lady, 23 years 
of age, could not approach a table upon which a rock-crystal 
was lying, still less could she touch the crystal, on account of its 
disagreeable smell. (Internationale Horn. Zeitung, Vol. IV, 1874, 
p. 225, Dr. G. Proll). A lady, 38 years of age, was able to smell 
the rock-crystal and several other minerals. (Ibid.) A lady, 
about 40 years of age, robust and healthy, could never touch a 
rock-crystal without experiencing a painful sensation, and she 
disliked it on account of its disagreeable odor. (Ibid.) 

A consideration of the sense of taste yields similar results. 
Some persons have a decided disgust for certain things 
(eggs, butter, etc.). In general, according to Reichenbach, sen- 
sitive persons prefer acidulated to sweet or fatty things. There 
are persons who immediately taste it when food has been 
cooked or prepared in metallic vessels ; and in some even un- 
pleasant sensations arise in the tongue when they hold metals 
in their hands. I have met with patients who -could at once 
detect sulphur by the taste when a few globules of the thirtieth 
or even a higher potency of that substance was put on their 



382 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

tongue, and the same experience has been confirmed by the 
observation of a number of homoeopathic physicians. 

Vital senses. — The sense of general feeling is with some persons 
exceedingly fine. They not only feel all negative od-emana- 
tions as cool and pleasant, and all positive od-emanations as 
lukewarm and oppressive, when in their immediate presence, 
but they feel them even at a distance and through thick walls. 
As, however, this general sense of feeling is variously inter- 
woven with sensations which originate in the sympathetic system, 
and a distinction between them is oftentimes impossible (com- 
pare 72 and 73), I shall treat of the phenomena related to 
one or the other or to both under the common title of vital 
se7ises. 

In Zschokke's Selbstschau, p. 237, we find the following remark- 
able instances of rhabdomancy. " Persons endowed with the 
mysterious gift of nature to perceive by a peculiar sensation 
the presence of water, metals and other fossils underneath the 
surface of the earth, are found almost in any of the cantons 
of Switzerland. I have known several of them, and have tried 
their wonderful sensitiveness. The Abbot of the Monastery St. 
Urban (Canton Luzerne), Ambrosius Glutz, a scientifically edu- 
cated prelate, was one of them. But Katharine Beutler, from 
Thurgau, surpassed in this sensitivity all others of whom I had 
heard, even Pennet, Campetti and others. I led her, on several 
occasions, in company with a friend of hers, into regions un- 
known to both, where, however, to my knowledge, subterranean 
layers of salt, ore, sweet water canals, etc., were situate. In no 
instance was she misled by her miraculous sensitiveness. This 
young woman was healthy, strong, and not at all a nervous or 
hysterical person. She would in many instances describe the 
peculiar sensations she had when near certain minerals. 
Gypsum, for instance, produced in her a spasmodic contraction 
of the muscles of the throat ; coal, a sensation of w r armth in her 
body ; sulphur, a similar, but yet different sensation, which she 
could not clearly define ; salt, perspiration on the lower arms 
and salty taste; anhydrite, stinging on the tongue as from 
pepper ; alum, cold, etching water on the upper teeth ; marl, 
burning in the stomach ; water, & sensation as of a column of 
water rising in the body and falling down again drop by drop; 
copper, a feeling of warm, bitter water in the mouth ; arsenicum, 
an unpleasant, strong beating in the head ; silver, strong pinch- 
ing in the intestines, etc." 



SENSITIVITY. 666 

In the Interned. Horn. Presse, Vol. IV, p. 212, Dr. Gustav 
Proll details ten cases of sensitive persons, some of whom were 
cured and others improved by the use of the Gastein hot 
springs. One of them was a seamstress, thirty years of age, 
who had been ailing in different ways for many years. Being 
destitute of means to pay for baths and board, Dr. Proll took 
her in his house, and allowed her to do some nominal work 
for him, such as dusting his book-cases, tables, cases for mineral 
collections, etc. One day, when occupied in this work, the 
girl gave a sudden shriek. Hastening to see what was the 
matter, the doctor found her in a drooping position, with tears 
in her eyes and nictitation of the eyelids. Her face was pale 
and distorted, and her body writhing with pain. She was 
speechless and unconscious. After shaking her arms (her right 
arm with his left, and her left with his right hand) she gradu- 
ally recovered, and upon being asked what had befallen her, 
she said : " That stone there has given me so much pain," point- 
ing to a beautiful rock-crystal (quartz composed of a six-sided 
pyramid and a six-sided prism), which had been presented to 
the doctor the previous evening. The moment she undertook 
to lift the crystal, in order to brush off the dust underneath it, 
she felt something like a violent blow in her hand, which ran 
up the arm so painfully that she had to cry out. The pain 
spread all over her body, but was felt most in the pit of the 
stomach, when she sank down. On being requested by the 
doctor to again touch the crystal, she commenced crying and 
begged to be excused, as even the smell of the stone was so 
very disagreeable to her. This the doctor seemed to doubt, 
but on bringing the crystal near to her nose, she again (with 
the same symptoms, except the shriek) fell to the floor. On 
the following day the doctor determined to test the woman's 
veracity. He carefully wrapped the crystal in cotton and laid it 
in a little closed box. In order to prevent her from becoming 
suspicious about the box, he handed the box and a book to 
her, telling her to take both book and box to a gentleman 
whom he named. She took book and box without the 
slightest suspicion, and went to do his bidding, but before 
she reached the door she slowly fell to the floor without a 



384 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

shriek. The doctor brought her to by shaking her arms and 
removing the crystal. On the following day the doctor wished 
to ascertain what kind of influence other minerals would have 
upon her. He opened his mineral case in her presence. The 
smell alone proceeding from these minerals affected her so 
powerfully that she came near fainting. She had to withdraw 
to the farthest corner of the room. By bringing the minerals 
one by one to her, the doctor found that all stones that were 
interspersed with little rock-crystals nauseated her even at a 
distance; while a calc-spar, which looked externally very 
much like a rock-crystal, did not affect her unpleasantly at 
all. At night, in total darkness, she saw bluish flames emanate 
from the rock-crystal. There were several other minerals which 
by their smell affected her unpleasantly ; others she was indiff- 
erent to. A non-crystallized so-called "milk-quartz" had a 
very pleasant effect upon her. She said this particular speci- 
men smelt good, and made her strong. She kept holding 
it in her hand, and after the doctor had finished replacing the 
minerals, he found her fast asleep in a standing position. 
Her breathing was deeper than usual ; her face had a quiet 
expression ; her pulse was slow and she spoke indistinctly in 
her sleep. The usual means of rousing her, however, had no 
effect. Calling loudly her name, sprinkling cold water in her 
face, shaking her body, etc., were of no avail. Not until the 
doctor shook her arms with his opposite hands did she awake, 
looking around astonished. She had had a pleasant dream, 
of which, however, she could remember nothing. A few days 
afterward two esteemed medical professors had the opportu- 
nity to convince themselves of the truth of the above-stated 
facts. 

Once this girl could not eat her meal, although she felt 
hungry, and there was nothing in her throat to prevent swal- 
lowing. The doctor could not detect any reason, nor she give 
any. Finally he observed that her back was turned toward 
the south. He at once placed her w T ith her back toward the 
north. She then ate quickly and without hinderance, although 
she did not have the slightest inkling of what the change of 
position meant, nor indeed any idea of north and south. On 



SENSITIVITY. 385 

the following day the doctor had four chairs placed in the 
exact direction of south, north, east and west. He ordered 
her to do some work and sit alternately for a time first on the 
one and then on the other chairs. In no direction did she 
feel comfortable, except when turning her back toward the 
north. She felt worst when turning her back toward the south. 

The doctor frequently sent her to the woods to gather 
flowers for him. Once she came home crying, and said that 
she could not bring any blue flowers, but only yellow ones, 
because she could not bear the sight of blue, while yellow was 
very pleasant to her. Later she bore the sight of blue equally 
as well as yellow. 

During the first week of her stay at the doctor's house, she 
became suddenly nauseated if any person happened to stand 
behind her looking in the same direction she did. This 
nausea also disturbed her if anyone stood or sat on her right 
side. If the doctor looked with his right eye into her right, 
or with his left into her left eye, she experienced an unpleas- 
ant sensation in the eye looked into, while the look of the op- 
posite eye she bore quite well. This sensitiveness, however, 
gradually diminished as her health began to improve by the 
judicious use of baths at Gastein. When she at last entirely 
recovered, she came to the normal standard of common sensi- 
tivity. 

A young woman, of about 29 years of age, fell twelve years 
before, striking upon the back of her head. Since that time 
she had suffered greatly from spasms of a peculiar kind. She 
came to Gastein ; and on taking a rock-crystal into her hand 
at once felt such a violent pain that under no consideration 
could she be persuaded to touch it a second time. This effect 
was much lessened, however, if the crystal was wrapped in a 
handkerchief before it was handed to her, or if she handled it 
with gloves on. At night she saw the rock-crystal shine and 
emit a bluish flame, and in order that she might carry the 
mineral without touching it, she had a handle made for it and 
used it as a night-lamp. Whenever this patient held her 
face over a point of the crystal she smelled a stupefying odor. 
She, too, recovered at Gastein, and when her recovery was 



386 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

complete the crystal no longer shone or gave forth odors for 
her." 

The celebrated chemist, Berzelius, in company with v. Rei- 
chenbach and Dr. Hochberger, made, in 1845, in Carlsbad, the 
following experiment upon a sensitive lady, von Seckendorf. 
They spread a large number of chemical preparations wrapped 
in paper upon a table, and asked her to slowly move the palm 
of her right hand over these small parcels. In performing 
this movement she experienced different sensations, derived 
from the several parcels. Some would produce a kind of 
drawing sensation in her hand, which others did not. Being 
asked to separate the different parcels according to the different 
sensations produced, into two rows, " the author of the electro- 
chemical system was absolutely struck with astonishment when 
he found that in the row which produced a drawing sensation 
none but electro-positive, and in the row which had no such 
influence, none but electro-negative bodies were discovered. 
The separation of these many parcels into positive and nega- 
tive minerals was complete ; and what had required a whole 
century of the greatest industry and sagacity to elaborate, the 
classification of chemical bodies into their natural electrical 
series, was effected by this sensitive person in ten minutes, 
through the simple guidance of her sensations." (Reichen- 
bach : Aphorismen uber Sensitivitat und Od, 7, 8. Wien, 1866. 
Der sensitive Mensch, I, 706. Stuttgart, 1854.) 

We see that the primitive psychic forces of some persons 
are influenced by stimuli so subtle that the majority of men, 
ordinarily constituted, are not capable of perceiving them. 
Have these influences, then, no existence because they are 
experienced only by a minority? Is this minority to be dis- 
believed because a majority whose senses are of a duller make 
do not confirm the minority's findings ? We might as well 
ask does light not exist, because the blind cannot see ? Do 
the various colors have no existence, simply because the color- 
blind do not perceive certain shades ? That the stimuli of any 
kind be perceived, it is necessary that the stimuli find forces 
upon which they can act, which they can influence. Without 
the qualification of an organism to perceive them, stimuli 



SENSITIVITY. 387 

would have no existence for that organism, notwithstanding 
the reality of the stimuli. It follows that it would be an illogi- 
cal inference to conclude that because this or that person, or 
even a hundred persons, cannot perceive a certain influence, 
that the influence does not exist. The quality of perceiving 
other stimuli than those which affect all commonly endowed 
primitive forces we shall call sensitivity. No one has so well 
investigated this obscure subject as Reichenbach ; and, accord- 
ing to his observations, the number of sensitive persons is 
much larger than an occasional observer would suppose. 
Neither is it true that only sickly persons are thus peculiarly 
constituted. Among the list of his sensitives are quite a num- 
ber of healthy and robust persons. (Compare Reichenbach : 
Der sensitive Mensch.) 

In the year 1883, April 24th, a committee of the Societ} 7 
for Psychical Research gave the following opinion on Rei- 
chenbach's researches on the visibility of magnet-emana- 
tions in a dark room : " The committee feel at least justified 
in recording: Firstly, that three observers, separately, on dis- 
tinct occasions, were in some way immediately aware when an 
electro-magnet was secretly ' made ' and ' unmade,' under 
such precautions as were devised to suppress ordinary means 
of knowing, and to exclude chance and deception ; and 
identified such magnetization by luminous appearances 
which, as described, agreed generally with the evidence re- 
corded by Reichenbach. Secondly, that there were, though 
less directly, indications of other sensory effects of magnetism. 
In view of these apparent confirmations of previous testimony, 
the committee incline to the opinion that, among other un- 
known phenomena associated with magnetism, there is a prima 
facia case for the existence, under conditions not yet deter- 
mined, of a peculiar and unexplained luminosity resembling 
phosphorescence, in the region immediately around the mag- 
netic poles, and visible only to certain individuals." (Proc. S. 
P. R., Vol. I, Part III, p. 236.) 



388 occult phenomena. 

114. Muscle-reading, Mind-reading, Thought- 
transference. 

The preceding facts lead us naturally to the consideration 
of what has become universally known under the name mind- 
reading. The so-called faculty of mind-reading has been ex- 
hibited on the stage by showmen (Brown, Bishop, Cumberland 
and others), and has been introduced into the family circle as a 
play under the name willing -game. It consists in this : A person 
is selected to "guess." He goes into another room while the 
company agrees upon a subject or object concerning which the 
person shall be made to "guess " — either to select a particular 
card or object in the room, or to execute some particular 
action. When the guesser, blindfolded, comes back into the 
room, he is taken hold of by one or two of the company by 
his hands or touched lightly upon his shoulders, while the 
rest concentrate their thoughts intently upon the . thing or 
action to be guessed. A sensitive person usually finds it easy to 
" guess " rightly, so that it appears as though he had been able 
to read the minds of the company. But the term " mind-read- 
ing" is undoubtedly a badly chosen expression, if by mind- 
reading it is intended to give a clear insight into the pro- 
cesses thus described, and often executed with striking results. 
Thinking minds soon discovered that there was very little, if 
any, mind-reading in most of these performances. 

The best description of the process I know of is that given 
by Rev. E. H. Sugden, B. Sc, in the Proceedings of the S. P. R., 
Vol. I, Part IV, p. 291. He says: "About six months ago I 
was led to try a few experiments in so-called thought-reading, 
as exhibited by Stuart Cumberland, and I was very soon con- 
vinced that all that he had done, and much more, could be 
effected by careful interpretation of muscular indications." 

" Character of the experiments. — They include the discovery 
of persons thought of in the audience and articles worn by 
them ; the finding of pins and other hidden articles ; the read- 
ing of the numbers of bank-notes, both by means of tickets 
with the ten digits printed on them and placed on a table, and 
by writing the numbers on a blackboard; the localization of 



MUSCLE-READING, MIND-READING, ETC. 389 

following a track chalked out on the floor ; and other similar 
tests. It will be observed that in all these cases the thought 
discovered is a thought involving either motion in a definite 
direction, or a definite point in space, the position of which 
has been indicated by movements. 

"Modus operandi. — The subject was directed to concentrate 
his whole attention on the person, number, etc., thought of. I 
(of course, blindfolded), took his left hand, as being more auto- 
matic than the right; then, if the object was to find some 
person or thing in the room, I walked somewhat rapidly in 
fron^ of my patient, following the indications he gave, until 
the person or thing was reached. If the number of a bank- 
note was to be discovered, I moved the patient's hand rapidly 
to and fro over the figured cards on the table until I found 
where it most contentedly rested, so obtaining the five figures 
in succession; or else laid his right hand upon the back of my 
own, and, following his indications, wrote the figures succes- 
sively on a blackboard. In localizing a pain, the patient's 
hand was rapidly passed over his body until some preferential 
point was discovered. I found, further, that for the large scale 
experiments it was quite enough to have a walking-stick 
between myself and the patient, he holding one end and my- 
self the other. Indeed, I have succeeded occasionally with 
only a piece of thin wire as a connective. 

" In all cases muscular indication was all that I used. I never 
had any thought borne in upon my mind, or any image pro- 
duced there ; there was no genuine thought-reading. I simply 
followed muscular signs. These varied much in clearness 
and force. Sometimes the subject positively did all the work, 
leading me to the place, writing the figures and so on, while I 
was as passive as possible. In such cases I have often gone on 
to write words or sentences upon the board under their guid- 
ance, but such instances were rare. As a rule, I had to make 
a careful estimate of the muscular resistance in each direction, 
and follow the line of least resistance until the place was 
reached, or the figure so far shaped as to be recognizable. 
Then the indications became much more positive. 

"Failures and their causes. — I failed more or less completely 
in about one case in four on an average. Probably the fail- 
ures would have been fewer if I had had ladies as my 
patients, as I have always, in private experiments, found 
them very good subjects. In every case of failure where 
inquiry could be made sufficient reason was discovered. The 
most usual cause was determination not to allow the thing to 
be done, the patient having an idea that it was a question of 



390 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

his will being conquered by mine, and so braced himself up 
to resist. Occasionally persons came forward determined to 
thwart me, either because they thought it was all 'humbug,' 
or because they considered the phenomena to be due to spirit- 
ualistic agencies. When the subject had a financial interest 
in the experiment, I found success to be very difficult to 
obtain. Boys, as a rule, I found to be impracticable subjects, 
possibly because they found it impossible to concentrate their 
thoughts intently while facing a large audience. I soon found 
out, too, that persons with cold, dry hands were never so easy 
to deal with as those with warm, moist hands. 

" The experience of the 'patients. — It is most important to note 
that in almost all cases the question was asked : ' Did you 
give me any indication of what you were thinking about?' 
and the answer was invariably, ' No, not the least.' The 
whole was done without any consciousness, and often in spite 
of a resolution to be quite passive. This should be remem- 
bered whenever contact has been allowed in supposed genuine 
experiments in thought-reading. The assurance of the person 
who is in contact with the thought-reader that he gave him 
no indication is absolutely worthless. The most respectable 
and trustworthy persons have, over and over again, assured 
me that they have never moved their hand, when I have 
known that they have simply used my hand as a pen, and 
have written with it and the chalk it held, using far more 
effort than they would if the chalk had been in their own 
fingers. It should be further noted that contact w T ith my 
hand is not necessary. I have succeeded in finding a person 
thought of in a room when the patient's hand was simply 
laid upon my forehead or upon my shoulders. The result of 
my experience would lead me to doubt any case of alleged 
thought-reading where contact of any kind had been allowed. 

" One or two observations, bearing on the unconscious 
action of the mind, may be recorded. I noticed very 
often that when an article had been hidden in one place, 
and then transferred to another, my patient almost invariably 
took me first to the first place, and then after a short search 
there suddenly went off to the right place. The same sort of 
thing has happened in the case of figures. If the figure has 
been changed, the one first thought of came out first, only to 
be declared wrong. Once in writing a bank-note number I 
could get nothing but twos ; they were declared to be wrong ; 
1 but,' said the patient, ' there were twos on another part of 
the note which I particularly noticed.' This is of interest as 
bearing on the well-known fact, that in so-called spiritualistic 



MUSCLE-READING, MIND-READING, ETC. 391 

revelations the things told are things which the questioner has 
possibly even forgotten, but which have once been in his 
mind. 

I also found that it is difficult for the mind to avoid trans- 
ferring itself from one thing to another like it. In finding 
pins, etc., 1 have often been led, not to the right place, but to 
a place similar to it ; as, e. g., the pin has been in one corner 
of the room, and I have gone to the other; or it has been in 
some one's pocket, and almost every pocket that I came near 
has had to be searched. One case was very singular. The 
pin had been hidden in the heel of a man's boot, under the 
instep. I was at once taken to a man near the platform, and 
got down to his boot-heel and to the very spot where the pin 
really was, but in another man's boot. I could get no further 
with that ' subject,' but, on taking another, I at once found 
the right man and the pin in his boot-heel. 

" I may add, finally, that I have no special power in this 
direction. I have rarely found anyone who could not pretty 
readily succeed in performing any of these experiments after 
a very little practice, and even on the first attempt if they 
had confidence." 

This clear exposition of self-experienced and self-executed 
experiments is sufficient to establish the fact that the kind of 
mind-reading or thought-reading usually exhibited by showmen 
or introduced in family circles as a pastime, is indeed no mind- 
reading at all, but merely muscle-reading. It does not require " a 
special power in this direction," as the reverend gentleman 
correctly observes, but merely a fine sensitivity of the muscu- 
lar sense and some practice. However, such experiments do 
not do away with or explain the deeper researches which the 
committee of the S. P. R., of London, on thought-reading have 
instituted, and which they have executed so exceedingly well. 
This committee consisted of Edmund Gurney, M. A , F. W. 
H. Myers, M. A., and Professor of Physics W. F. Barrett. 
They preferred to designate the group of phenomena which 
they had under examination as thought-transference, instead of 
" thought-reading," and came to the conclusion that thought- 
transference is " the mental perception, by certain individuals, 
at certain times, of a word or other object kept vividly before the 
mind of another person or other persons, without any transmission 
or impression through the recognized channels of sense" (Pro- 



392 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

ceedings of the S. P. R., Vol. I, Part II, p. 70.) This defini- 
tion, of course, excludes muscle-reading and all guessing from 
gestures, signs or other collusions. In fact, the committee 
have guarded the experiments with such exceeding care 
against everything which in any way could impair the purity 
of the results, that the most rigid scrutiny cannot say ought 
against them. The phenomena under examination were such 
as " where a number, name, word or card has been guessed 
and expressed in speech or writing, without contact, and ap- 
parently without the possibility of the transmission of the idea 
by the ordinary channels of sensation." (Professor W. F. Bar- 
rett, Proceedings of the S. P. R., Vol. I, p. 18.) To these 
experiments others were added afterward, in which a simple 
geometrical or other kind of figure, of which the percipient 
could not possibly have received any kind of knowledge, was 
drawn off-hand by some one of the committee. The original 
drawings and their reproductions by the percipient have been 
published in the Proceedings from the authentical drawings 
photographed and transferred to the wood-blocks. To detail 
here all these experiments is unnecessary and lies entirely out- 
side of the scope of this work. I can merely refer to the Pro- 
ceedings of the Society for Psychical Research, Vol. I, Parts 
I-VII. These experiments were not all successes; but the 
failures are also recorded, and these latter are in many respects 
as valuable as the reports of successes. 

We can now consider the question which, at this point, con- 
cerns us most : How is a word or other object, kept vividly before 
the mind of a person or persons (the agent), transmitted to 
the mind of another person (the percipient), otherwise than 
through some of the recognized channels of sense. In other 
words : How can a conscious modification in one person (the 
agent) excite into consciousness a like modification in another 
person (the percipient) without taking its course through some 
one of the recognized channels of sense ? 

To simplify this question, let us ask first: How do uncon- 
scious modifications in us become excited into consciousness 
in one and the same person ? We have dwelt upon this pro- 
cess at length in several parts of this work. The surest and 



THOUGHT-TRANSFERENCE. 393 

never- failing way is the excitation by external stimuli. The 
corresponding stimulus finds and joins the already acquired 
vestiges, from like or similar stimuli, and excites them into 
motion or consciousness (12). 

But, beside this mode of excitation into consciousness (a 
mode carefully excluded from what the committee called 
thought-transference), we know of two other means by which latent 
modifications are excited into consciousness : The fresh primi- 
tive forces, and those which have been only partially modi- 
fied by general stimuli. (Compare 13.) The first variety are of 
an active, living nature, constituting the will-power of man, 
and cause all voluntary excitation into consciousness; the 
second partaking of the nature of both, of the conative primi- 
tive forces and of the external stimuli ; one office of which 
is to cause involuntary excitations. They are active, living 
forces, and are so modified by external stimuli that they act 
according to the law of the attraction of like to like, and will 
associate with vestiges of a more or less similar make and 
rouse them into excitation. These three modes of excitation 
into consciousness are active constantly in the waking soul, 
and partially also during sleep. They constitute the activity 
of our mental life. 

What has all this to do with thought-transference ? A great 
deal, as we shall presently see. If the recipient guesses cor- 
rectly a w^ord, name or number w r hich the agent looks at 
fixedly, and holds in his mind vividly, what does that mean? 
Nothing more than that the mental modification so vividly 
excited in the agent becomes also excited in the mind of the 
percipient. It is a perception roused into consciousness by 
the vivid excitation of a similar object in another person's 
mind. It is therefore a process w T hich similarly and constantly 
occurs in our own minds, and even with the same accuracy or 
inaccuracy in the agent. If I perceive an object by any of the 
senses dimly, it will rouse a correspondingly dim mental modi- 
fication. I may mistake a perfect stranger for an old acquaint- 
ance. I may not be able to find the right word or a name at 
all, however sure I am that I know it, and exert myself to 
utter it, although it may " dance upon my tongue " in the 



394 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

shape of similar or totally different names. We see all these 
features presented in cases of thought-transference. Thus we 
read in the Proceedings, pp. 163 and 164 : " In some of the less 
accurate reproductions, Mr. Blackburn (the agent) complained 
of the difficulty he had in keeping the original drawing stead- 
ily in his mental view ; and on one or two occasions we asked 
Mr. Blackburn to draw his recollection of the picture simul- 
taneously with Mr. Smith (the percipient) (the two, of course, 
b*ing kept out of sight of each other). We found that the main 
errors in Mr. Smith's reproductions existed already in Mr. 
Blackburn's recollections of the drawing." We also find on 
p. 273: "When the object has not been first shown, but is 
only thought of, success seems to depend upon the vividness 
of each person's mental picture." In short, a dim perception 
in the agent will rouse only a dim perception in the per- 
cipient. 

" Or the percipient guesses, instead of Barnard, first Har- 
land and then Barnard ; for Bellairs, Humphreys, Ben Nevis, 
Benaris; for Johnson, Jobson, Johnson ; for Wissenschaft, Wissie, 
Wissenaft " (see Proceedings, p. 80) ; all examples (and many 
more illustrations like these can be found in the experiments 
of the committee) which prove that, instead of fully alike, 
frequently only similar modifications are excited into con- 
sciousness in the percipient's mind. Sometimes the percipient 
has " to give it up," because no definite modification presents 
itself to his mind, or he makes a " guess " entirely wrong, from 
some impression which is not at all connected with the agent's 
mind, but may be entirely a product of the unconscious work- 
ing of the percipient's own mind. Occasionally the idea or 
name of the object did not come at first to the percipient, but 
the appearance seemed to dawn gradually upon the mind, and 
sometimes it only presented itself in its general features, so 
that often the object could only be described, but not named. 
First the color impression was received, then the general 
shape, and afterward any special characteristic, and finally the 
name. As an illustration, take the case of a blue feather. 
The "subject" said, " It is pale. It looks like a leaf; but it 
cannot be a leaf; it looks like a feather curled — Is it a feather?" 



THOUGHT-TRANSFERENCE. d^O 

Again, a key was described as " a little tiny thing with a ring 
at one end and a flag at the other, like a toy flag." Urged to 
name it, she said, " It is ver}' like a key." (Guthrie, Vol. I, Part 
V, p. 27.) These facts evidently prove that the concrete thing, 
looked at by the agents and fixed in their minds, aroused 
gradually the corresponding modifications in the mind of the 
percipient ; and not until all the particular characteristics of 
this thing had been excited into consciousness could the per- 
cipient add also the name. The first modifications were those of 
^(//^-reproductions, and the later of sound; which is just exactly 
the same order in which the mental modification of either a 
" feather" or a " key " had originated in her mind. The con- 
crete perception of sight-stimuli produced the first mental 
modifications of either key or feather, and the sound-stimuli 
" feather or key " (different in different languages) were added 
to it afterward. The process would have been entirely dif- 
ferent had the " agents " kept vividly before their minds the 
sound-modifications " feather or key ; " then the names would 
have been guessed first, and the sight-modifications would have 
remained either indefinite or entirely unconscious, according 
to the various shades in which these sight-modifications 
existed in the minds of the agents at that time. 

Again, " anxiety to secure success on the part of the subject 
of experiment is nearly always fatal and always prejudicial; 
and hence the little trepidation that exists when set trials are 
made, or trials before strangers, tells most unfavorably upon 
the results of experiments. We found that casual experiments, 
made when the subject was under no restraint, gave very 
satisfactory results, albeit on such occasions our precautions 
to avoid erroneous convictions w T ere in no way relaxed." 
(E. Gurney, Proc, Vol. I, p. 70.) 

On the other hand, " it would appear that any mental dis- 
turbance on the part of the operators or on the part of the 
' subjects,' due to anxiety to succeed, or to the novelty of the 
entourage of persons or things, very much interferes with 
the success of experiments. I may here remark that the result 
of our experience is that success or failure depends as much 
(if not more) upon the condition of the agent as upon that of the 



390 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

percipient. It has happened that after a complete failure before 
strangers, the agent and percipient have been almost immedi- 
ately able to obtain a successful transference of a number of 
impressions, the previous failure having probably been due 
to the mind of the agent occupying itself with the presence of 
the visitors, instead of being directed exclusively upon the 
object to be described. As regards the condition of the agent, 
I may say that although I have been very successful myself 
in giving impressions to each of the ' subjects ' without the 
presence of any other person, still, under precisely similar 
conditions, when I have not felt equal to the required effort of 
concentration, I have been unable to repeat the success. We 
have also found that wandering thoughts on the part of the 
agent are misleading. Experiments, therefore, before a large 
miscellaneous company are not likely to be successful." 
(Guthrie, Proc, Vol. I, Part V, pp. 27 and 28). 

What does all this prove ? It proves that " thought-transfer- 
ence " succeeds or fails under the same conditions as the exci- 
tation of certain mental modifications succeed or fail in our 
daily mental life. Anyone who has bestowed the slightest 
amount of observation upon himself will know how internal 
as well as external disturbances hinder the easy flow of excita- 
tions in his own mind. 

There is still to be mentioned another peculiar feature of 
these experiments on " thought-transference," and that is, that 
the excitations in each particular sense (sight, hearing, touch, 
smell and taste) are reproduced in the percipient by their 
similar sensations. This fact shows that the law of attraction 
of like to like even here is the ruling agent. 

We may, then, safely affirm that the reproductions roused 
in a percipient occur by reason of the same laws and are hin- 
dered or assisted by the same conditions as the usual excitations 
into consciousness in our own minds. 

But how can such excitation be transmitted from one mind 
into another mind? That is the question. So long as the 
excitation into consciousness takes place in one and the same 
mind, it can easily be accounted for as the consequence of the 
existing connection between the single modifications among 



THOUGHT-TRANSFERENCE. 397 

themselves. But how can a mental modification which is 
agitated in the mind of one person, excite in the mind of 
another person corresponding similar modifications into a 
like agitation ? 

To remove the difficulty of understanding this occult pro- 
cess we have first to remove preconceived notions regarding the 
real nature of the human soul itself. These notions or ideas are 
of two kinds, materialistic and spiritualistic. The materialistic 
view is of the notion that soul-action is simply a process of 
brain-action. Without brain there is no soul, and, conse- 
quently, all phenomena which cannot be explained by the 
theory of molecular movements of nervous matter (of which, 
indeed, they know nothing), are either unconscious cerebra- 
tion, or imagination, or superstition, or collusion, fraud and 
criminal deception. I shall not attempt at this place to re- 
fute the falsity of these coarse notions, but refer the reader 
to the physiological part of this work, in which the erroneous 
position taken by the materialists has been disproved. 
By spiritualistic notions I do not understand modern 
spiritualism, but that old psychological view which consid 
ered the soul as a purely simple, uncompounded being, en- 
dowed with certain abstract faculties or powers, such as a 
faculty of perception, of understanding, of reason, of will, etc., 
which create the several single perceptions, concepts, infer- 
ences, desires, volitions and will-acts. « 

It is clear that with such notions firmly rooted in the mind 
we cannot approach our subject on any side ; for with the 
materialistic view soul-action must cease where the brain 
ceases ; and with the spiritualistic view there is no understand- 
able means of explaining how the power of reason or will 
could ever create such modifications in another person as 
were present in the mind of an operator in the experiments 
cited. If we want to consider this subject understandingly 
we must necessarily drop both these notions. The soul is 
neither mere brain-matter, nor is it a nondescript something 
possessed of imaginary powers. Tlie soul actually co?isists of its 
different systems of substantial primitive forces. These forces must 
not be understood to mean forces in the same sense as light, 



398 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

electricity, etc., are spoken of as forces. That would be an erro- 
neous understanding of the term as we employ it. The primi- 
tive forces are real psychical substances, and are quite as real 
as any material substance. (Compare 109, on Force and Mat- 
ter, and 110, on Soul and Body.) By the action of correspond- 
ing stimuli these primitive forces develop, as we have shown 
throughout this work, into the different mental modifications 
of greater or less strength or clearness of consciousness, in the 
proportion as their vestiges are multiplied by similar im- 
pressions. These modifications never gain anything in space. 
They are and remain spaceless. When we speak of psychic 
forces we must then discard our notions of space. The ac- 
quired mental modifications constitute the treasure of our 
mental development; but we are conscious of only a very 
small fraction of this treasure at a time. Incomparably the 
greatest portion of our mental acquisitions lie dormant in un- 
consciousness. Any of them may, however, under favorable 
conditions, be excited into consciousness. The exciting ele- 
ments, as has been stated before, are either external stimuli, 
or primitive forces partially modified by external stimuli, or 
lastly, void, unoccupied primitive forces; all of which we have 
described under the name of mobile elements, because they are 
constantly flowing from modification to modification during 
our waking state, and sometimes also during sleep. 

Now, as the excitation of a particular modification in the 
"recipient" ensues exactly in the same manner and under the 
same conditions as in our own minds, it is but logical to 
assume that the modification is also produced by the same means 
— the mobile elements. Of the methods of excitation into 
consciousness the external stimuli have been most rigidly 
excluded by the committee. Thus only (a) partially modified 
and (b) void primitive forces remain to be considered. Of 
these, the class of primitive forces partially modified by exter- 
nal stimuli is undoubtedly the most potent agent which brings 
about the apparently obscure phenomena of which we speak, 
and they are fully competent for the task. They command 
all the requirements for the occasion. In the first place, they 
possess the naturally active, moving principle of the primitive 



THOUGHT-TRANSFERENCE. 399 

forces ; secondly, they are so fully charged with the peculiar 
character of those specific external elements which excite the 
particular modification now vividly before the mind of the 
" agent," that they, by the law of attraction of like to like, strike 
and excite also the corresponding modification in the mind 
of the " percipient," because, thirdly, they are spaceless, as are 
all psychic forces, and consequently not restricted by any cor- 
poreal distance or interference, so that they can reach a similar 
psychic modification in another mind, as well as in their own, 
and impart to it their own state of excitement and make it con- 
scious. The free or void primitive forces no doubt likewise 
exercise a considerable influence in this process of transference, 
inasmuch as they constitute the willing in the agent to con- 
centrate his attention to the one particular modification which 
is to be transferred. But the excitation of the similar modifi- 
cation in the mind of the percipient no doubt ensues princi- 
pally by reason of the action of the partially modified primi- 
tive forces, which, by the law of the attraction of like to like, 
find their similars and impart to them their own peculiar 
state of excitation. That psychical, or spaceless (or as we have 
called them immaterial, 109) forces are not hemmed in by cor- 
poreal distances and interpositions in this process, is clearly 
proved by the experiments of the committee. (Proceedings, 
Vol. I, Part I, p. 37 and other places.) The percipient was 
placed in another room, and yet the impressions from the 
agent were transferred to him all the same. This is altogether 
a different genus of forces from those we are accustomed to 
call material, and with which we think we are so thoroughly 
acquainted, because we can weigh and measure them ! What a 
coarse inference in the face of proofs which clearly show that 
not one-half of these facts could be understood without the 
assumption of psychical forces ! On the other hand, what a 
superficial inference in the face of facts which clearly show 
that even the susceptibility to the various different influences 
varies immeasurably in different individuals ! That this sus- 
ceptibility changes even in the case of thought-transference 
has also been proven by the committee, when Professor Bar- 
rett says on page 78 in the Proceedings: "The fact seems to be 



400 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

(and the children of the Creery family themselves are regret- 
fully conscious of it) that the capacity is gradually leaving 
them — a fresh illustration of the fleeting character which 
seems to attach to this and other forms of abnormal sensi- 
tiveness." 

I think we have now in our hands all the points needed for 
explaining the apparently occult process of "thought-trans- 
ference." It requires first a fine susceptibility for psychical 
influences on the part of the "percipient," and a clear and 
vivid excitation into consciousness of the mental modification 
to be transmitted on the part of the "agent." The suscepti- 
bility of the percipient varies in degree, not only in different 
persons, but also at times in the same person, and anxiety, 
exhaustion or uncomfortableness of any description interfere 
decidedly with the success of experiments. In a like manner 
success is impeded or frustrated if the "agent" is mentally 
agitated by things foreign to the excitation of the mental 
modification which is to be transmitted. The nature of thought- 
transference consists essentially in the excitation of the modi- 
fication in the recipient, similar to the one excited in the 
"agent," and is effected by mobile elements, and principally by 
primitive forces partially modified or charged with external 
stimuli. Void primitive forces determine the concentration of 
the mind to the modification which is to be transferred. The 
mobile elements (as all soul-forces are spaceless) do not move 
in the sense of corporeal forces from place to place; theirs is an 
attraction of like to like, independent of corporeal distances or 
interpositions. Although the soul needs and uses and builds up a 
corporeal mechanism in order to live and thrive in the material 
world, yet its conscious manifestations are all spaceless. We 
can never place any of our thoughts in this or that or another 
part of the brain, no matter how lively our mental modifications 
may appear, vanish and be exchanged for others. They are 
purely spaceless excitations according to their connections and 
similarity, but never manifest any kind of moving from this to 
that or another cerebral organ, or place ; and if I could ever con- 
ceive anything of the nature of a fourth dimension, it is this ac- 
tion of psychical forces, independent of space, as it discloses itself 



ANIMAL MAGNETISM, ETC. 401 

to self-observation, which would bring it nearest to my com- 
prehension. If the fourth dimension is, according to Zollner, a 
necessary consequence of mathematical reasoning, in the space- 
less action of psychical forces we might find the only semblance 
to its nature that is accessible to our observation. It is this 
action of psychic forces, independent of space, which alone 
makes the occult process of " thought-transference " compre- 
hensible. As spaceless forces they are not restricted by space 
or bodies in space. Their action is outside the limitations of 
space, just as they themselves lie entirely out of the reach of 
any and all mechanical and chemical means of detection. 
We must disabuse ourselves of the common mode of thinking, 
that motion of psychical forces is a traversion of space, if we 
want to understand the transference of thought from one 
person to another. It is not a transference in space, but an 
excitation of psychical modifications by means of similar 
primitive soul-forces, partially modified by corresponding 
stimuli, which are spaceless themselves and for which there 
exists no space. 

115. Mesmerism, Animal Magnetism, Tellurism, Hypnotism, 

Statuvolism. 

In describing these subjects I shall make use of the words 
of the several authors of the systems. 

Mesmer says in his work, edited bv Wolfart, Berlin, 1814, 
p. 17: 

" An invariable observation of all nations has formed a 
general belief in the influence or action of the greater celes- 
tial bodies, and especially of the sun and the moon upon the 
earth. The people observe in vegetation, in fermentation, in 
animals and also in diseases, a regular, mutual process corre- 
sponding to the constellation and interaction of these bodies. 

" Not at all disposed to detest and reject these views as 
antiquated notions, I endeavored to discover the real cause of 
these effects in nature. It appeared to me at last that this 
cause was similar to that which manifests itself in the magnet. 
Numerous observations and experiments justified this pre- 
sumption, and I became more and more convinced that the 
animal body was capable of receiving an energy which, by 



402 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

virtue of a reciprocal action and counteraction in the midst of an 
unlimited and uninterrupted body of matter, the all-flood 
(' Allfluth'), makes itself sensible to all that surrounds it, even 
to the action of the most distant bodies. I believe I may call 
this kind of influence ' nature's magnetism' or natural mag- 
netism. 

" Just as the property of the magnet may be excited and 
increased in iron and steel by certain manoeuvres (so that it be- 
comes a true magnet), so have I found the means to augment 
in me the natural magnetism to such a degree that I am able 
to produce phenomena which are analogous to those of the 
magnet. In the same way as the natural heat by certain 
operations may be produced and augmented to a mode (tone) 
of motion by which fire is produced, so also has the natural 
magnetism become a kind of invisible fire, which communi- 
cates itself to other animate and inanimate things, by the 
continuity of certain series of the all-flood to immeasurable 
distances. I am, therefore, able to excite this fire or this tone 
of motion in one of the series of the all-flood, which, on ac- 
count of its rarity, penetrates all matter, manifests its action 
immediately in the substance of the nerves, and consists prob- 
ably of the same fluid stuff with which the nerves are impreg- 
nated. And this fire, in consideration of its application as a 
remedial agent upon the organism of animate beings, is what 
I call animal magnetism" (pp. 17-19). 

"Discerning experience has proved that animal magnetism 
is similar to the nature of fire, but in noways a substance, but 
a motion, like the sound in the air, like the light in the ether, 
modified in a certain series of the universal flood. But this flood, 
or this series of motion, is not that of the common fire, nor that of 
the light, nor that of the magnet, nor that of electricity. It is of 
an order which exceeds all in rarity and mobility. Probably 
it is one and the same with that which impregnates the nerve 
substance. This homogeneity and continuity of both would 
bring them in a reciprocal relation with the whole universe. 
" This tonic motion may be communicated to all animate 
and inanimate bodies, and may inflame them, so to speak. 
Since this motion is communicated to the most interior parts 
of the bodies, it causes effects which correspond with the 
organization of these bodies, and, once excited in a substance, 
it endures therein. As the general action of magnetism con- 
sists of regulating the in-going and out-going currents, it is 
clear that in the magnetized bodies, and especially in the 
limbs and in the nooks of the body, originate, as in the 
magnet, poles which are opposite in their direction. There is 



MESMERISM, ANIMAL MAGNETISM, ETC. 403 

also similarity of these same directions with the great mun- 
dane currents in the phenomenon of inclination and declina- 
tion " (pp. 110 and 111). 

" This original or excited fire, or this tone of motion, can be 
communicated to all organized substances, such as animals, 
trees, plants, stones, sand, water and other fluid and solid 
substances, to all distances and in all magnitudes, even to the 
sun and the moon, etc. The real communication is effected 
by mediate or immediate touch with a magnetized body — that 
is, with a body inflamed by this invisible tire; so that a mere 
direction with the hand or a conductor, even a glance of the 
eye, or the mere will, may be sufficient" (pp. Ill and 112). 

" The transference is effected by concussion like light and 
sound, or like electricity in the continuity of the fine stuff 
through all fluid and solid bodies which stand in some unin- 
terrupted connection with the magnetized body ; e. g., through 
strings, wood, balls, twigs of trees or plants, etc., also through 
mediary bodies like air, ether, water, through sound and light; 
from looking-glasses it may be reflected, through a dash made 
with lead-pencil, pen or otherwise, and generally through the 
direction determined by the pole from which it emanates to 
the pole which receives it. 

"This motion penetrates, in the perfect continuity of the fine 
flood, all bodies. It is propagated almost instantly to a dis- 
tance, the limits of which we cannot measure " (p. 112). 

''The application of magnetism may be made with the hand, 
by moving it over the affected parts and holding it there. The 
presence of magnetism usually manifests itself as a feeling of 
slight warmth in the hand. There may also be used a con- 
ductor of wood, iron or glass, etc., which must be directed toward 
the affected part: Parapathos. 2. By means of a magnetic ves- 
sel (baquet) which contains magnetized water, sand, stones, 
bottles filled with water, from which the concentrated magnet- 
ism is led by iron rods outside the vessel to the person to be 
magnetized, by taking hold of such rod" (pp. 115 and 116). 

"The effect shows itself in sensations, and thus it is clear that 
magnetism directly affects the nerves. Indeed, the observa- 
tions made prove that this fluid is the same as that which 
animates the nerves. The influence of this fluid cannot be 
recognized by the common senses" (p. 118). 

" To magnetize is nothing else than to impart, directly or in- 
directly, the tonic motion of the fine fluid by which the nerve- 
substance is impregnated" (p. 119). 

" In order to establish harmony with the patient, the mag- 
netizer, who sits opposite the patient, lays his hands upon the 



404 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

shoulders of the patient, and lets them glide down the arms to 
the ringers. For a short time he takes hold of the patient's 
thumbs, and repeats this process two or three times. After this 
he makes a few similar strokes from the head down to the feet " 
(p. 180). 

" If the disease is located in the abdomen, the magnetizer 
should touch the spot with the index finger and thumb, or two 
or three other fingers, or with the flat hand, and move them 
upon the abdomen as much as possible in the direction of the 
nerves, and, lastly, hold all five fingers separated and bent over 
these parts. The touch at a small distance from the abdomen 
acts stronger, because there exists a stream between the hand 
of the operator and the patient" (p. 182). 

" There may also be used a conductor, such as a rod of glass, 
iron, steel, gold or silver, etc. It is also good to oppose one 
pole to the other, for instance, to place the right hand on the 
head, chest or abdomen, and then lay the left hand on the op- 
posite part of the back, especially in the median line" 
(p. 183). 

" In all times it has been observed that certain persons walk 
about during their sleep, and execute the most complicated 
actions with the same reflection and attention, and with even 
greater precision, than during their waking state. And still 
more marvelous is the development of intellectual functions, 
which often excel by far the best developed in the normal state. 
In this state the patients can foresee the future and represent 
to themselves the remotest past. Their senses expand to all 
distances and in all directions, without hinderance. It appears 
as if all nature were present to them. But these capacities differ 
in different individuals. The most common phenomena are to 
be able to see the interior of their own bodies and those of 
others, and to recognize not only the disease, but also the 
course it will take and the means which will cure it. But 
these capacities are seldom found united in one and the same 
individual" (pp. 199 and 200). 

" A reflection alone on the subtility, mobility and the con- 
tinuity of matter filling all space, lets us understand that no 
motion or displacement in any of its least particles can be 
possible without affecting the whole universe. Hence it fol- 
lows that all that exists can be felt, inasmuch as there is no 
being nor combination of matter which would not, in conse- 
quence of its relation to the whole, affect likewise that part of 
matter in which we live. All animated beings which are in 
conjunction with all nature are able to sense distant beings 
and occurrences as they follow upon each other" (p. 201). 



MESMERISM, ANIMAL MAGNETISM, ETC. 405 

"A communication of will to another in the common way is 
brought about when the movements produced by the thought 
are transferred from the centre to the vocal organs, and from 
thence by means of air and ether to the organs of sense of the 
other person, who then perceives them. These same motions 
of thought, modified in the brain and in the nerves, are at the 
same time communicated to a series of a subtle fluid with 
which the substance of the nerves is connected, and can be 
transferred independently of air or ether into space immediately 
to the inner sense of another individual. Thus it is not diffi- 
cult to conceive how the will of one person can be communi- 
cated to the will of another merely by means of the inner 
sense, and how, therefore, a harmony and agreement can be 
established between two wills. This harmony or agreement 
of two wills is called: to be in rapport" (p. 202). 

" Of still greater difficulty is it to explain how things can 
be perceived which do not yet exist or which have passed 
away long ago. I shall try to explain the possibility of these oc- 
currences by a common illustration. Suppose a man to be stand- 
ing on a hill from which he can look down upon a river upon 
which a boat is floating. There he can trace not only the way 
which the boat has made, but also the space which it has yet 
to run through. If we apply this simple likeness to the ex- 
planation of a knowledge of the past and future, and remem- 
ber that man, by means of his inner sense, is in constant con- 
nection with all nature, and therefore able to perceive the 
concatenation of causes and effects, we can conceive that to 
know the past means nothing but to perceive the causes in 
the effects, and to know the future, to sense the effects in their 
causes, independent of any distance that may lie between the 
first cause and the final effect. 

" Beside, everything that has been has left some traces of what 
is to be and exists already in the sum total of causes that 
will produce it, and thus the idea lies near, that in the uni- 
verse all is present, and that the past and future are merely 
different relations of the parts to each other." 

" As, however, this kind of sensing • can be obtained only 
by means of series of the all-flood,' which are so much finer 
than ether, as ether perhaps excels in subtility the air, we 
are in want of words to explain these processes, just as we 
cannot explain colors by sounds. We must supplement them 
by contemplations on the pre-apprehensions or the foresight 
which men, and especially animals, show of great natural 
events in distances beyond the bounds of their sensory or- 
gans " (p. 204). 



406 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

"During sleep (natural or magnetic) the surrounding mat- 
ter does not act through the external sense-organs, but im- 
mediately upon the nerve- substance. The inner sense is 
now the only organ for sensation. These impressions, inde- 
pendent of the external senses, as the only ones now exist- 
ing, are felt by and through themselves. In consequence of 
an unalterable law, that the weaker impression is subdued 
by a stronger one, these faint impressions can be felt only 
in the absence of the stronger sensory impressions. Thus 
are the stars invisible to us during the day, because the 
stronger sunlight quenches their weaker light. In sleep, 
however, man feels his connection with the whole of nature" 
(p. 205). 

" As the knowledge of the most learned man w T ould remain 
unknown without communication, so would also this phe- 
nomenon remain unknown, if there were not individuals who 
retain the capacity during their morbid or critical sleep to 
manifest by speech and action what takes place within them. 

" The light somnambulistic sleep is an intermediate state 
between waking and sleeping, which can approach more or less 
the one or the other, and is, therefore, more or less perfect. If 
it is nearer to the waking state, then memory and recollection 
take still some part in it ; and as these sensations commingle 
with those of the inner sense, sometimes predominantly, the 
whole must be classed in the category of dreams. If, however, 
this state approaches nearer to sleep, then the utterances of the 
somnambulic person are the result of sensations of the inner 
sense only, and not of the external senses, which are blocked 
out. The perfection of the critical sleep varies according to 
the character, temperament and habits of the patient. Al- 
though in the critical sleep the substance of the nerves is 
immediately excited, and the entire activity of the person is 
under the influence of the inner sense, still the effects of the 
different excitations are always referred to the external senses 
which especially correspond to them. 

" If, therefore, a somnambulist says, * I see,' then it is not 
the proper eyes that receive the impressions of the ether, but 
he refers to sight those impressions which are aw T akened in 
him by the motions of light from the different outlines, figures 
and colors. If he says, ' I hear,' it is not his ear that re- 
ceives the different modulations of the air. He only refers 
to it the impression of motions which he receives. The same 
holds good in the other senses, and he makes, so to say, 
only a kind of translation in order to express the sen- 
sations which he receives by the inner sense. For this 



MESMERISM, TELLURISM, ETC. 407 

reason his expressions may easily be falsely interpreted, 
and it takes a good observer to understand them correctly. 
The perfection of this sensation depends clearly on two condi- 
tions: On the totally arrested activity of the external senses, 
and the disposition of the organ of the inner sense. This 
organ consists in the union and combination of the nerves; 
and I do not understand by this a single spot or centre, nor a 
circumscribed region, but the nervous system as a whole; that 
is, the entire brain, the spinal cord and all nerve-plexuses and 
ganglia. These different parts may, as regards their functions, 
be compared singly and in the whole to the different strings 
of a musical instrument, the accord of which only produces 
perfect harmony " (pp. 205-208). 

" It is essential to again repeat that all kinds of mental 
aberrations are but modifications of a perfect sleep" (p. 209). 

Telltjrism. — The author of this term wrote the following 
work: "System des Tellurismus, oder thierischen Magnetismus. 
Ein Handbuch fur Naturforscher und Aerzte, von Dr. D. G. 
Kieser, Hofrath und Professor zu Jena. 2 Bande. Leipzig, 
bei Fz. L. Herbig, 1822." 

I shall quote this author in his own words : 

" Animal magnetic influence or animal magnetism upon 
our earth is the (intentionally caused) reciprocal action of two 
living organisms upon each other, in which not the solar but 
the telluric force preponderates and decides " (Vol. I, p. 7). 

" The solar force, although magnetically analagous, is never- 
theless directly opposite to the telluric force, it is heterologous 
to it, for everywhere, where in single things or their lives the 
solar force steps in, there telluric force and life cease; but 
where the telluric force prodominates over the solar, there the 
telluric force is homologous to the magnetic force, or is iden- 
tical with it. Therefore, the night acts magnetically, the day 
anti-magnetically. The action of the moon, being a part of 
the earth, is homologous to that of the earth ; and therefore 
the lunar force has the. same effect upon somnambulists as the 
telluric force has " (Vol. I, p. 11). 

" The activity which brings about the magnetic rapport is 
the animal magnetic force, or the magnetic agent. It is, there- 
fore, the living activity of the earth or its representative, the 
telluric force itself, which emanates in different forms during 
the reciprocal action between two things from the magnetizer 
upon the somnambulist. It is not anything material, but the 
force or spirit of the earth w T hich, in the different forms of the 
magnetizer, either as metallic, vegetable, animal or human 



408 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

spirit, is always the expression of the telluric spirit " (Vol. I, 
p. IS). 

" The communication of the magnetic force to other bodies 
not magnetic, is not a passive receiving and advancing of a 
material stuff, as, for instance, as ponge sucks in and retains 
water ; but it is a purely vital process, a true magnetizing of 
these substances, in consequence of which they assume a tel- 
luric life, like the somnambulist, and act as such. The mag- 
netophores might, therefore, more correctly be called anorganic 
somnambulists " (Vol. I, p. 310). 

"All magnetophores act less energetically, and only during 
a certain length of time, steadily decreasing in power, than 
the body by which they were magnetized" (Vol. I, p. 315). 

" As the telluric force is the most universal force of the earth, 
and no earthly stuff can escape the power of its influence, it 
follows that all earthly bodies must be conductors of the 
telluric force " (Vol. I, p. 318). 

" The telluric force is, therefore, not an electric or galvanic 
force, nor is it identical with the mineral magnetic force, 
neither is it merely the psychic force of man, nor his nervous 
activity; it is not the all-flood of Mesmer, nor general vital 
power, nor is it identical with light, heat or chemism, or a 
dead, fine exhalation of an animal body, nor even the pure 
psychic force of spirits" (Vol. I, pp. 338-344); but, as said before, 
the most universal force of the earth, the living activity of the 
earth, which in the different forms of the magnetizer, either as 
metallic, vegetable, animal, or as human spirit, is always the 
expression of the telluric spirit" (Vol. I, p. 18). 

The means of magnetizing were: The will, the look and 
various manipulations with the hands and fingers of the mag- 
netizer and the unmagnetized baquet, all of which Dr. Kieser 
describes at full length from page 347-407 in Vol. I. 

Hypnotism.— Dr. James Braid made known his researches 
on this subject in two works : 

1. Neurypnology, or Hypnotism, or Nervous Sleep. London, 
1843; and, 

2. Magic, Witchcraft, Animal Magnetism, Hypnotism and 
Electro-Biology. (3d edition, Churchill, Princess St., Soho, 
London ; Adam and Charles Black, Edinburgh, 1852.) 

I shall extract from these books only what is necessary to 
obtain a clear understanding of Braid's results and views : 

" In November, 1841, 1 was led to investigate the pretensions 
of animal magnetism, or mesmerism, as a complete sceptic, 



ETC. 409 

from an anxiety to discover the source of fallacy in certain 
phenomena I had heard were exhibited at M. Lafontaine's 
conversazione " (Neurypnology, p. 2). . 

" My first experiment was to prove that the inability of the 
patient to open his eyes was caused by paralyzing the levator 
muscles of the eyelids, through their continued action during 
the protracted fixed stare, and thus rendering it physically im- 
possible for him to open them " (Ibid. p. 16). 

" It is on the principle of overexerting the attention, by 
keeping it riveted to one subject or idea which is not of itself of an 
exciting nature, and overexercising one set of muscles, and the 
state of strained eyes, with the suppressed respiration and 
general repose which attend such experiments, which excites 
in the brain and whole nervous system that peculiar state 
which I call hypnotism, or nervous sleep. 

" The most striking proofs that it is different from common 
sleep are the extraordinary effects produced by it. In deep 
abstraction of mind, it is well known, the individual becomes 
unconscious of surrounding objects, and in some cases even of 
severe bodily inflictions. Daring hypnotism or nervous sleep 
the functions in action seem to be so intensely active, as must 
in a great measure rob the others of that degree of nervous 
energy necessary for exciting their sensibility. This alone 
may account for much of the dulness of common feeling 
during the abnormal quickness and extended range of action 
of certain other functions" (Ibid. p. 48). 

" The'hypnotic condition resembled, in two patients who had 
hypnotized themselves, very much the same state as that pro- 
duced by the laughing gas. One lost the power of speech for 
two hours, as happened also after the gas. But there is a 
remarkable difference between the hypnotic condition and 
that induced by nitrous oxide gas. In the latter there is great, 
almost irresistible, inclination to general muscular efforts, as well 
as laughter ; in the former there seems to be no inclination to 
any bodily effort, unless excited by impressions from ivithout. 
When the latter are used, there is a remarkable difference 
again in the power of locomotion and accurate balancing of 
themselves, when contrasted with the condition of intoxication 
from wine or spirits, where the limbs become partially para- 
lyzed, while the judgment remains pretty clear and acute. 
The state of muscular quiescence, with acute hearing, and 
dreaming, glowing imagination, approximates it somewhat 
to the condition induced by conium " (pp. 57 and 58). 

" The first symptom after the induction of the hypnotic 
state, and extending the limbs, are those of extreme excitement 

27 



410 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

of all the organs of sense, sight excepted. A patient who could 
not hear the tick of a watch beyond three feet when awake, 
could do so, when hypnotized, at the distance of thirty-five 
feet, and walk to it in a direct line without difficulty or hesi- 
tation. 

" Smell. — One patient has been able to trace a rose through 
the air when held forty-six feet from her. 

" The tactual sensibility is so great that the slightest touch 
is felt, and will call into action corresponding muscles, in which 
will also be found a most inordinate power. 

" The sense of heat, cold and resistance is also exalted to such a 
degree as to enable the patient to feel anything ivithout actual 
contact, in some cases at a considerable distance (eighteen to 
twenty inches), if the temperature is very different from 
that of the body ; and some will feel a breath of air from the 
lips or the blast of a pair of bellows at a distance of fifty 
or even ninety feet, and bend from it, and, by making a back 
current, as by waving the hand or a fan, will move in the 
opposite direction. The patient has a tendency to approach to 
or recede from impressions, according as they are agreeable or dis- 
agreeable, either in quality or intensity. Thus they will approach 
to soft sounds, but they will recede from loud sounds however 
harmonious. A discord, such as two semi-tones sounded at 
the same time, however soft, will cause a sensitive patient to 
shudder and recede when hypnotized, although ignorant of 
music and not at all disagreeably effected by such discord 
when awake " (p. 62). 

" By allowing a little time to elapse, and the patient to be 
in a state of quietude, he will lapse into the opposite extreme of 
rigidity and torpor of all the senses, so that he will not hear the 
loudest noise nor smell the most fragrant or pungent odor, nor 
feel what is either hot or cold, although not only approximated 
to, but brought into actual contact with, the skin. He may 
now be pricked, pinched or maimed without evincing the 
slightest symptom of pain or sensibility, and the limbs w T ill 
remain rigidly fixed. 

" At this stage a puff of wind directed against any organ in- 
stantaneously rouses it to ordinary sensibility and the rigid 
muscles to a state of mobility. 

"Thus the patient may be unconscious of the loudest noise, 
but by simply causing a current of air to come against the ear, 
a very moderate noise will instantly be heard so intensely as to 
make the patient start and shiver violently, although the 
whole body had immediately before been rigidly catalepti- 
form. 



411 

" A rose, valerian or asafoetida, or the strongest liquor am- 
monise, may have been held close under the nostrils without 
being perceived ; but a puff of wind directed against the nos- 
trils will instantly rouse the sense so much that, supposing the 
rose had been carried forty-six feet distant, the patient has 
instantly set off in pursuit of it, and, even while the eyes were 
bandaged, reached it as certainly as a dog traces out game; 
but as respects valerian or asafoetida, the patient will rush from 
the unpleasant smell with the greatest haste. The same with 
the sense of touch " (p. 63). 

" The brain being in a state of torpor, the limbs rigid and 
the skin insensible to pricking, pinching, heat or cold, by gently 
pressing the point of one or two fingers against the back of the hand 
or any other part of the extremity the rigidity will very speedily 
give place to mobility and quivering of the arm, hand or fin- 
gers, which is greatly increased by pressing another finger 
against the neck, head or face. In the latter case the commo- 
tion of the whole body is as violent in some patients as from 
shocks of the galvanic battery. 

" By placing both fingers on any part of the head, face or 
neck the commotion almost or entirely ceases. 

" By pinching the skin of the hand or arm with one finger 
and thumb, and the skin of the neck or face with another, no 
effect is produced. 

" Pressure made with isolating rods, glass or sealing-wax, is 
followed by the same phenomena as when done by the points 
of the fingers. 

" The flat hand applied has very little effect. 

" The pressure being made against both hands, the arms are 
contorted, and if the head is partially dehypnotized the 
patient will complain of pains running into the fingers, espe- 
cially if one point of contact is the hand and the other the 
face or head. These phenomena do not occur while the skin 
remains sensible to pricking or pinching" (p. 66). 

" The following is the mode of operating for phrenological 
manifestations: Put the patient into the hypnotic condition 
in the usual way, extend his arms for a minute or two, then 
replace them gently on his lap, and allow him to remain per- 
fectly quiet for a few minutes. Let the points of one or two 
fingers now be placed on the central point of any of his best- 
developed organs, and press it very gently. If no change of 
countenance or bodily movement is evinced, use gentle fric- 
tion, and then, in a soft voice, ask what he is thinking of, what 
he would like or wish to do, or what he sees, as the function 
of the organ may indicate, and repeat the questions and the 



412 OOCULT PHENOMENA. 

pressure, or contact, or friction, over the organ till an answer 
is elicited. If very stolid, gentle pressure on the eyeballs may- 
be necessary to induce him to speak. If the skin is too sensi- 
tive he may awake, in which case try again, waiting a little 
longer. If too stolid, try again, beginning the manipulations 
sooner. 

" Whispering or talking should be carefully avoided by all 
present, so as to leave nature to manifest herself in her own way, 
influenced only by the stimulus conveyed through the nerves 
of touch exciting to automatic muscular action " (pp. 145, 146). 

"Resume. — 1. The effect of a continued fixation of the mental 
and visual eye, in the manner and with the concomitant 
circumstances pointed out, is to throw the nervous system into 
a new condition, accompanied by a state of somnolence, and 
a tendency, according to the mode of management, of excit- 
ing a variety of phenomena very different from those w r e 
obtain either in ordinary sleep or during the waking con- 
dition. 

" 2. There is at first a state of high excitement of all the 
organs of special sense, sight excepted, and a great increase of 
muscular power; and the senses afterward become torpid in 
a much greater degree than w T hat occurs in natural sleep. 

" 3. In this condition we have the power of directing or con- 
centrating nervous energy, raising or depressing it in a remark- 
able degree at will, locally or generally. 

" 4. In this state we have the power of exciting or depressing 
the force and frequency of the heart's action, and the state of 
circulation, locally or generally, in a surprising degree. 

" 5. While in this condition we have the power of regulating 
and controlling muscular tone and energy in a remarkable 
manner and degree. 

" 6. We also thus acquire a power of producing rapid and 
important changes in the state of the capillary circulation, 
and of the whole of the secretions and excretions of the body, 
as proved by the application of chemical tests. 

" 7. This power can be beneficially directed to the cure of a 
variety of diseases which were most intractable, or altogether 
incurable, by ordinary treatment. 

" 8. This agency may be rendered available in moderating 
or entirely preventing the pain suffered by patients while 
undergoing surgical operations. 

" 9. During hypnotism, by manipulating the cranium and 
face, we can excite certain mental and bodily manifestations, 
according to the parts touched " (pp. 150, 151). 



MESMERISM, HYPNOTISM, ETC. 413 

"From the first I was of opinion that much of the excite- 
ment and many of the phenomena developed were attributable 
to the altered state of the circulation in the brain and spinal 
cord, and especially to the greater determination of blood to 
them and all other parts not compressed by rigid muscles, 
arising from the difficulty, during the cataleptiform state, of 
the blood being propelled in due proportion through the rigid 
extremities. I conclude that the ganglionic or organic system 
of nerves is also inordinately stimulated from the same cause, 
and thus, having acquired an undue preponderance, induces 
many of the remarkable phenomena which have been referred 
to. Whoever examines carefully the injected state of the con- 
junctival membrane, and of the capillary circulation in the 
head, face and neck, the distented state of the jugular veins, the 
hard, bounding throb of the carotid arteries, and the greatly 
increased frequency of the pulse, during the rigid condition of 
the limbs, cannot fail to perceive that there is great determi- 
nation to the head. Again, when all these symptoms are so 
speedily changed on reducing the cataleptiform condition of 
the limbs and consequent obstruction to free circulation 
through them, is the chief cause of the determination to the 
head and other parts not directly pressed on by rigid mus- 
cles." (pp. 155-157). 

" The varieties which are met with as regards suscepti- 
bility to the hypnotic impression, and the mode and degree of 
its action, are analogous to what we experience in respect to 
the effects of wine, spirits, opium, the nitrate oxide and many other 
agents. They are all well known to act differently on different 
individuals, and even on the same individuals at different 
times, according to the condition of the system" (p. 158). 

Extracts from " Magic, Witchcraft, Animal Magnetism, Hyp- 
notism and Electro- Biology," by James Braid, 3d ed., London: 
John Churchill, Princess St., Soho ; Adam and Charles Black, 
Edinburgh, 1852 : 

" The object of my pamphlet, published in July last, entitled 
1 Electro-Biological Phenomena Considered Physiologically 
and Psychologically/ was to prove the subjectivity of the hyp- 
notic, mesmeric and the so-called ' electro-biological' condition 
in opposition to the theory of the mesmerists and electro- 
biologists; the former of whom contended for an occult or 
special influence, or the 'od force' of Reichenbach as the 
cause; while the latter attributed it to an electrical influence, 
excited and directed by the will and manoeuvres of a second 
party. My theory was this : That the phenomena resulted from 



414 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

the concentrated mental attention of the patient acting on his oum 
physical organism, and the changed condition of the physical action 
thus induced reacting on the mind of the patient" (p. 10). 

"Now, all I have ever laid claim to was simply the discovery 
of more certain and speedy modes of producing the hypnotic 
state, and applying it with greater advantage for the relief and 
cure of disease than by the old-established modes of mesmer- 
izing; and also that my method has enabled me to demonstrate 
that the influence is subjective, or personal, and not objective, or 
the result of the transmission of an occult, magnetic, or odylic, 
or vital, or nervous influence or fluid, passing from the operator 
to the patient" (p. 21). 

" It is a curious fact, and tells strongly in support of my 
subjective or personal theory, that while many insane patients, 
particularly cases of monomania, may be readily enough hyp- 
notized, I have never yet been able to affect an idiot. Where there 
is no mind capable of being aroused to an act of sustained, 
fixed attention, I have never succeeded in hypnotizing the 
patient, although I have made many persevering attempts to 
do so " (p. 43). 

" I am satisfied that all the mesmerizing processes produce 
their effects from what is essentially the same exciting cause as 
that which induces hypnotic phenomena, viz : by the produc- 
tion of a state of mental concentration, through the attention 
becoming so engrossed by watching the manoeuvres or sugges- 
tions of the operator, as for the nonce to render the subject dead 
or indifferent to all other sensible impressions or trains of 
thought. In this condition the whole attention of the subject 
is given to every existing or suggested idea, and thus it works 
wonders in changing or modifying the existing condition of 
the physical frame. Moreover, suggestions may be given, 
either through words spoken or sensible impressions made on 
any of the organs of special sense. In this stage of the sleep 
the power of suggestion on the patient is excessive. Whatever 
idea is suggested to his mind, whether by the natural import 
of words spoken, or modified by the tone of voice in which 
they are uttered, is instantly seized upon by the subject and 
interpreted in a manner to surprise many, and lead them to 
believe it has been accomplished by a sort of intuition or 
inspiration. In this way you may vary or modify the ideas 
suggested in the most remarkable manner, and the patient 
sees and feels and speaks of all as real, without the slightest 
desire to impose upon others" (pp. 59 and 60). 

" Arousing patients from the hypnotic state. — If I wish any 
predominant idea or physical change which has been induced 



MESMERISM, STATUVOLISM, ETC. 415 

to be carried strongly into the waking condition, I arouse the 
patient abruptly, by a clap of my hands near his ear, when at 
the full height of the desired condition. If tranquilizing is 
intended, then he had better be aroused slowly and softly, 
as by gently wafting with the hand, or a fan, or open hand- 
kerchief, over the face, or by placing the thumbs gently on the 
eyes of the patient, or on his eyebrows, and carrying them late- 
rally a few times, so as to produce gentle friction, to which may 
be added gentle fanning, if required. If the patient is in the 
sub or half-waking condition, a word spoken or a visible move- 
ment of any sort made, so as to break his abstraction excited 
temporarily by previous suggestion, will suffice " (p. 72). 

"My investigations, supported as they are by the researches 
of many men of the highest rank and intelligence, fully prove 
that the solution of the problem is this : That many patients, 
who are naturally highly susceptible to such influences, 
become, at length, liable to be affected entirely through 
the force of imagination, belief, or habit ; and that they do not 
exhibit these manifestations from any desire to deceive others, 
but because they are self-deceived, through their implicit cre- 
dulity, belief and fixity of their attention on the ideas suggested 
in their hearing, or in any way associated in their minds with 
certain processes and combinations of circumstances" (p. 103). 

" In conclusion, I beg leave to remark that, from ample ex- 
perience, I feel pretty confident that all the phenomena alleged 
by me as producible in the above-named manner are veritable 
facts — that they are not fallacies. And from a consideration of 
the whole I am led to infer that my subjective or personal theory 
is, at all events, a step in the right direction, and somewhat 
nearer the truth than the theories of the mesmerists and electro- 
biologists" (pp. 104 and 105). 

Statuvolism. — The author, Dr. Wm. Baker Fahnestock, 
who coined this term for artificial somnambulism, gives the 
following instructions in his book on " Statuvolism, or Arti- 
ficial Somnambulism" (Chicago: Religio-Philosophical Pub- 
lishing House, 1871) : 

"Various methods have been employed by different opera- 
tors to induce somnambulism. The plan adopted and prac- 
ticed by Mesmer and his pupils has already been detailed in 
a preceding chapter. The plans of modern magnetizers are 
scarcely less absurd than that employed by Mesmer and his 
immediate followers. 

" Some operators of the present day, who believe in a mag- 
netic influence, still pursue the ludicrous method of sitting 



41G OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

down opposite the patient, holding Ins thumbs, staring into 
his eyes, and making passes, etc., until the desired object is 
effected. Others who believe looking to be essential, direct the 
patient to look at some object intently until the lids close and 
the patient becomes unconscious. 

"Very few, however, can be induced to enter the state in 
any of the above ways, and those who do usually fall into the 
sleeping condition of this state are generally dull, listless and 
seldom good clairvoyants The most rational, certain and 
pleasant "way of inducing this state which I have discovered is 
the following: 

" When persons are desirous of entering this state I place 
them upon a chair where they may be at perfect ease. I then 
request them to close the eyes at once, and to remain perfectly 
calm at the same time that they let the body lie perfectly still 
and relaxed. They are next instructed to throw 7 their mind 
to some familiar place — it matters not wdiere, so that they 
have been there before and seem desirous of going there again, 
even in thought. When they have throw 7 n the mind to the 
place, or upon the desired object, I endeavor, by speaking to 
them frequently, to keep their mind upon it, viz.: I usually 
request them to place themselves (in thought) close to the 
object or person they are endeavoring to see, as if they were 
really there, and urge them to keep the mind steady, or to 
form an image or picture of the person or thing in their mind, 
wdiich they must then endeavor to see. This must be perse- 
vered in for some time, and when they tire of one thing, or see 
nothing, they must be directed to others successively, as above 
directed, until clairvoyance is induced. When this has been 
effected the rest of the senses fall into the state at once, or by 
slow 7 degrees, often one after another, as they are enervized or 
not. Sometimes only one sense is affected during the first 
sitting. If the attention of the subject is divided, the difficulty 
of entering the state perfectly is much increased, and the 
powers of each sense w T hile in this state will be in proportion 
as that division has been much or little. 

"Almost every subject requires peculiar management, which 
can only be learned by experience or a knowledge of their 
character, etc. Much patience and perseverance is often re- 
quired to effect it; but if both be sufficiently exercised, the 
result will always be satisfactory — if not in one sitting, in two 
or more. I have had several to enter this condition after 
twenty sittings, and had them to say that if they had not in- 
terfered and had allowed things to take their course they 
would have fallen into it in the first sitting. This shows that 



MESMERISM, STATUVOLISM, ETC. 417 

those who do not enter it in one or two sittings must do some- 
thing to prevent it. 

" Many persons have entered'the state in the above manner, 
who could not do so in any other, although repeated trials 
had been made to effect it. 

" Taking hold of the thumbs and looking into the eye or 
at any other object particularly^ by no means necessary ; and 
as this state is one that depends entirely upon the state of the 
subject's mind, and is brought about by an act of his own 
will and not by that of the operator's, it must be evident to 
every intelligent mind that all that the operator can do, in- 
dependent of the instructions which he may give, or the care 
he may take of them, etc., is perfectly useless, and ought to be 
dispensed with. 

" I have found that persons always enter this state better with- 
out any contact, looking, passes, or anything of the kind, partic- 
ularly when they are assured that they have some competent 
person to take care of and to converse with them while in it ; 
and by observing carefully the instructions which I have 
given, it is possible for any person to throw themselves into 
this state at pleasure, independent of anyone; but it might 
not always be prudent to do so for the first time; for some, 
upon entering the condition for the first time, become uncon- 
scious of all that is passing around them ; and if such persons 
were to throw themselves into it independent of anyone, and 
had not consented or made up their minds before entering it 
to hear or to speak to someone, it is most likely that when 
in it and spoken to they would not hear anyone, and in all 
probability would sleep for a longer or a shorter time without 
doing anything, and when they did awake would remember 
nothing, and scarcely know that they had been in it at all. 
Or they might get up and wander about, as is sometimes done 
by natural somnambulists, and unknowingly get into difficul- 
ties or meet with some accident which might not be very 
agreeable when they awoke. 

" When they have entered the state frequently and have 
had the proper instructions while in it, the case is very differ- 
ent. They are then able to move about with as much cer- 
tainty and safety as if they were awake. 

" The sensations experienced by those who enter this state 
are variously described by different subjects; but most com- 
monly they agree that after the eyes are closed and they have 
been endeavoring to see for a longer or shorter period, a drow- 
siness ensues, accompanied with more or less ' swimming of 
the head,' and a tingling sensation over the whole body. 



418 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

"Some experience a feeling of sinking down, as if they were 
passing through the floor; others, again, feel as light as a 
feather and seem to ascend or to be suspended in the air. Some 
start and twitch involuntarily in various parts of the body ; 
while in others the breathing is more or less affected; but 
there is no necessity for their feeling unpleasantly in any way. 
Some feel warm, others cold, but none of the sensations are 
described as being unpleasant, and when the state is entered 
perfectly the feelings are said to be delightful. 

"All that is needful, when it becomes necessary that they 
should awake, is to ask them whether they are ready or will- 
ing to do so, and if they are, I direct them to do so at once, and 
they will awake at the word 'now!' in an instant. If, how- 
ever, you should desire to awaken them, and they are not willing, 
it will be found impossible to do so contrary to their will, and 
you will be obliged to await their pleasure. Before they 
awake, however, I commonly request them to remember how 
they felt and what they saw, etc., or they may not know any- 
thing about it when they do awake, particularly if it be their 
first sitting. With some this is not necessary after the first or 
second sitting, as they commonly make up their minds 
to do so of their own accord. Yet I have seen some with 
whom it was always necessary. Indeed, I have two subjects 
with whom I have the greatest difficulty, when asleep, to per- 
suade them to remember anything. Yet when they awake 
they are much mortified at not having any recollection of 
what has transpired ; and it seems as if it were impossible for 
them to carry the resolution to do so into that state, and when 
in it to resolve to remember when they awake. Others, on the 
contrary, have the power of remembering whatever they 
please, or of forgetting what they please ; or, in other words, 
they can remember all that has transpired, only a part of it, or 
nothing at all, as they may feel disposed at the time. 

" This quality or power of the mind, while in this state, 
enables them to create pain, or feel pleasure at will, and if they 
imagine, or determine, that there is or shall be pain or disease 
in any part of the body, that pain or disease will certainly be 
felt at the time and place designated, and will continue until 
the mind acts, or is directed so as to alter the condition. 
This peculiar power of the mind, while in this state, I have 
taken advantage of to cure diseases, and if the mind be prop- 
erly directed while in this state, so as to make them resolve 
to be well, pains, contracted habits or diseases are removed by 
an act of their will, as if by magic, and will last until the con- 
ditions are changed, or altered by influencing causes, or by a 
positive act of the subject's will." (Statuvolism, pp. 67-74.) 



MESMERISM, ETC. 419 

After having thus introduced, in their own words, four of 
the main authors on a subject which we call "Mesmerism" in 
honor of its rediscoverer and earnest expounder, Dr. Mesmer, 
we shall now state, in a few words, the agreement and the dif- 
ference between them. They all agree that, by certain ma- 
nipulations and procedures, a certain state can be induced in 
an individual subjected to them, of the most extraordinary and 
startling physical and psychical nature. They all differ from 
one another as to the means of inducing this state. Mesmer 
held that there existed an infinitely fine fluid pervading the 
whole universe ; that this fluid could be accumulated in a 
person (or thing) like magnetism, and transferred to another 
person, in whom the nervous fluid, which Mesmer considered 
to be of the same nature as the " all-flood," was by this means 
so excited and led in different directions and to different actions, 
that it produced this extraordinary state. As he considered 
this process similar to the induction of the mineral magnetic 
influence, he called the influence of certain persons upon 
others " Animal Magnetism." 

Dr. Kieser, on the other hand, denies the existence of this 
universal fluid, and considers the animal magnetic influence 
due to the telluric force, which, according to his view, is not 
anything material, but the force or spirit of the earth in its 
different forms as a magnetizer, either as metal, vegetable, 
animal or human spirit. The magnetizing is to him a purely 
vital process, in consequence of which the magnetized assume 
a -telluric life and act as if under the earth's influence. 

Dr. Braid asserts "that the influence is subjective or personal, 
and not objective, or the result of the transmission of an occult, 
magnetic, or odylic, or vital, or nervous influence or fluid, 
passing from the operator to the patient. It is on the prin- 
ciple of overexerting the attention, by keeping it riveted to 
one subject or idea which is of itself of an unexciting nature, 
and overexercising one set of muscles, and the state of strained 
eyes, with suppressed respiration, and general repose which 
attend such experiments, which excites in the brain and whole 
nervous system that peculiar state which I shall call hypnotism 
or nervous sleep." 



420 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

Dr. Fahnestock, on the contrary, contends and proves by 
many experiments made about the time when Braid was 
engaged in his investigations, "that this state is one that de- 
pends entirely upon the state of the subject's mind, and is 
brought about by an act of his own will and not by that of 
the operator; that all that the operator can do, independent of 
the instructions he can give, or the care he may take of them, 
etc., is perfectly useless and ought to be dispensed with." 
Being a state into which the subject lapses b} 7 the exercise of 
his own will, Dr. Fahnestock called it "Statuvolism." 

But these modes are not the only means by which the 
mesmeric state may be induced. The seamstress, whom Dr. 
Proll, at Gastein, took in his house, was thrown into it by acci- 
dentally touching a " milk-quartz," of the nature of which she 
knew nothing. There was no expectation, no fixing of atten- 
tion, or overexertion of any of her muscles, no wish or will on 
her part to be thrown into that state, of which she had not the 
slightest knowledge. It was the simple contact with the 
stone which induced in her the mesmeric state. (See 113.) 

The Society for Psychical Researches found that, "with 
sensitive 'subjects,' the ticking of a watch held at the ear, and 
light monotonous passes acting on the nerves of touch, were as 
effective as the fixed gaze" (Proc. of S. P. R.; Part VII, p. 269). 
Indeed, the range of means for the induction of the mesmeric 
state may, by further experimentation, be still more widened. 
In fact, each mesmerizer follows his own mode with more or 
less success, and some persons do not succeed by any of these 
means. We have no right to form conclusions from the suc- 
cess of one or the other of these means as to the nature of the 
mesmeric state ; and if we prejudge " this state " according to 
a certain mode or certain means by which we best succeed in 
inducing it, we certainly prejudice our own cause. The names 
given certainly 'fall far too short of the whole range of phe- 
nomena, of which they only describe a part. This is ob- 
viously the case with all the names heading this chapter. 
Animal magnetism does not explain the many cases where this 
state has been induced by unmagnetized agents (Kieser's 
method); tellurism is an ambiguous term, and, therefore, so 



MESMERISM — ITS SYMPTOMS. 421 

unmeaning that we scarcely know what to make of it; hypno- 
tism seems to be a misnomer, as even, according to Braid's own 
observation, there is very little similarity between this state 
and common sleep ; and statuvolism comprises too little of the 
entire range of the phenomena observed. The name Mesmer- 
ism seems, therefore, to be best adapted as a designation for a 
state which is still so little known, or is wholly disputed. It 
honors the rediscoverer and first promulgator, and does not in 
any way commit us to any theory thus far elaborated. 

The symptoms, although varying greatly in different cases, 
are, in the main, the following : 

Braid says : " In the hypnotic state vision becomes more 
and more imperfect, the eyelids are closed, but have for 
a considerable time a vibratory rnotion (in some few they 
are forcibly closed, as if by spasm of the orbicularis). The 
organs of special sense, particularly of smell, touch and 
hearing, and those of heat and cold, and resistance, are 
greatly exalted, and afterward become blunted in a degree far 
beyond the torpor of natural sleep. The pupils are turned up- 
ward and inward, but, contrary to what happens in natural sleep, 
they are greatly dilated and highly insensible to light. After 
a length of time the pupils become contracted, the eyes still 
being insensible to light. 

" The pulse and respiration are, at first, slower than natural ; 
but, immediately on calling muscles into action, a tendency to 
cataleptiform rigidity is assumed, with a rapid pulse and op- 
pressed and quick breathing. The limbs are maintained in a 
state of tonic rigidity for any length of time I have yet thought 
it prudent to try, instead of the state of flaccidity induced by 
common sleep. The most remarkable circumstance is that 
there seems to be no corresponding state of muscular exhaus- 
tion from such action." (Neurypnology or Hypnotism, p. 55.) 

" In passing into natural sleep, anything Held in the hand 
is soon allowed to drop from the grasp, but in the hypnotic 
sleep it will be held more firmly than before. This is a very 
remarkable difference. The power of balancing themselves is so 
great that I have never seen one of these hypnotic somnambu- 
lists fall." {Ibid., p. 56.) 



422 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

This observation is not corroborated by the experiments 
of the Committee on Mesmerism. On the contrary, only few 
were able to balance themselves in that state. 

" Anaesthesia and rigidity can be induced, either generally or 
partially, in any specified portion of the body. Usually, how- 
ever, anaesthesia and rigidity exist at the same time, and the 
anaesthesia may be so complete that no amount of pinching, 
pricking, burning, or strong electric shocks will produce the 
slightest protest or sign of pain, while at the same time the 
subject is acutely sensitive to pain inflicted on the operator." 
(Proceedings, Part III, p. 227.) 

" Partial rigidity and anaesthesia may be induced while the 
1 subject ' remains otherwise in a perfectly conscious and nor- 
mal condition." (Proceedings, Part IV, p. 257.) 

" A community of feeling, or rapport, between the * operator ' 
and the 'subject/ seems wholly indisputable, at least in many 
cases. The Committee on Mesmerism found a community as 
to sensation (Part IV, p. 225), will (Part IV, p. 256), and the 
ability of undoing this state." (Part VII, p. 290.) 

" It is astonishing how most of the 'subjects' when in that 
state may become controlled by 'suggestions' of the operator, 
and even obey commands given in that state when out of it, in 
a way, however, that the end being suggested, the 'subject' 
will take his own means to accomplish it." (Proa, Part VII, 
p. 284.) 

One more remarkable symptom is that the subject awakes un- 
conscious of anything which has happened during that state. 
However, this is not always the case. We see recollections in 
all shades carried over from the mesmeric into the normal 
state, especially from the first, or alert stage, as Mr. E. Gurney 
calls it. The alert stage lapses either gradually or suddenly 
into the deep stage, which is characterized " by closure of the 
eyes, insensibility to pain, disinclination, amounting some- 
times almost to inability, to move, diminution of irritability 
of the conjunctivae and susceptibility of the pupils to light, with 
irresponsiveness to any voice but that of the operator. But of 
these characteristics the only one which is invariable is the 
bodily torpidity." (E. Gurney, Proceedings, Part V, p. 65.) 



THEORIES EXPLAINING THE MESMERIC STATE. 423 

116. Theories Explaining the Mesmeric State. 

Under the title of " The Problems of Hypnotism " Mr. Ed- 
mund Gurney, in the Proc. of the Soc. for P. R., Part VII, p. 
265, etc., gives an excellent article, discussing in an exhaustive 
manner the now existing explanations of the mesmeric state. 
I shall not go over this ground a second time, since Gurney 
has shown clearly the insufficiencies of the one-sided physio- 
logical, as well as of the one-sided psychological hypotheses. 
I must, however, speak here of certain terms which in these 
discussions are largely used, and sometimes so vaguely used 
that one cannot help thinking of Goethe's words : "Da wo die 
Begriffe fehlen stellt ein Wort zur rechten Zeit sich ein." Even at 
the risk of repeating myself I shall consider the following 
terms : Automatic, cortical and motor centres, attention, con- 
centration and reverie, memory and recollection. 

Automatic means self-moving, a very wide and ambiguous 
term, but usually applied to machines which, by a driving 
power and adapted mechanical contrivances, simulate some 
definite action or actions of man or animal, purely in a me- 
chanical manner. There is no spontaneity about it. This 
alone ought to make us hesitate in applying this term to 
psychical states. When applied to actions unconsciously per- 
formed (in the common sense), we ought to know that such 
actions cannot be performed without the consciousness of the 
special mental modifications necessary to their performance, 
although there may not exist any consciousness of the same. 
The performance of any psychical action always implies an 
excitation, i. e., consciousness of the several mental modifica- 
tions necessary thereto. (Compare the chapters on the dif- 
ferent forms of consciousness in the preceding portions of this 
work.) When applied in the sense of spontaneous action, the 
term automatic implies that there are feelings or impulses at 
the bottom of it, which feelings or impulses ought to be defined. 
This is never done. The term automatic, therefore, does not 
explain anything. It is a mere catch-word used boldly by 
some " scientists," because apparently it snugly covers their 
own ignorance, and is believed in by the unthinking crowd, 



424 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

because, not thinking for themselves, they take any learned 
expression seemingly appropriate as self-evidently correct. 

Cortical and motor centres. I spoke of this materialistic subject 
at length in the physiological part of this work. (Compare 
90 and others.) Although it is perfectly correct to assume 
corresponding corporeal means or organs by which the psychi- 
cal governs the body in its connection with the external, it is 
altogether incorrect to consider these material parts as the 
cause of the phenomena ensuing. They are simply the condi- 
tions necessary for the production of these phenomena. On the 
other hand, it is true that when the corporeal conditions 
change, psychic utterances must likewise be modified. A cause 
cannot bring forth its normal effects unless normal conditions 
are given. The relation between soul and body is so inti- 
mate that the activity of the one cannot be understood with- 
out taking into full account also the state of the other. To 
refer the solution of the difficult problems offered by a con- 
sideration of the mesmeric state to inhibition of this or that 
nervous centre, is obviously merely begging the question. 
" What part of the brain is inhibited ? By what is it inhib- 
ited? " are clearly questions which thus far have not been 
answered by the advocates of the nervous centre and the in- 
hibition theory. 

An equally poor showing is apparent in those " explanations " 
which make constant reference to " attention and concentration, 
memory and recollection." 

Attention, as we have seen in 100, " is the arousing of ves- 
tiges previously acquired to a present impression" and " its degree 
is nothing more nor less than the amount or number of ves- 
tiges previously acquired joining the excitation of the present 
impression." 

Now, to look fixedly upon a button or "unexciting" object, 
is surely not apt to arouse many vestiges formerly acquired, 
unless in a speculative head who knows something about the 
manufacture of buttons, and calculates what the price of a 
dozen of the particular kind gazed at might be. He will not 
go to sleep, but will keep awake until he comes to some 
conclusion as to the material, the way of manufacturing, and 



THEORIES EXPLAINING THE MESMERIC STATE. 425 

the price of that kind of buttons. His attention to the button 
will keep him aivake. Another, knowing nothing of the but- 
ton business, while staring upon such an object and not being 
troubled otherwise with many thoughts, may readily fall 
asleep, not on account of his attention to the button, to the 
perception of which no particular vestiges previously ac- 
quired are aroused or added, because he has none, but by 
his staring, which prevents him from observing what goes on 
around him, or, in other words, which prevents the arousing of 
vestiges previously acquired by what he might see or hear. 
The object must be unexciting enough not to cause attention, 
but to deaden attention to other things. Instead, then, of 
attention being requisite to promote the mesmeric state, it is 
just the opposite condition that is required, a blank, passive 
state of the mind that neither thinks, wishes nor wills. This 
is proved by the many cases in which the mesmeric state has 
been induced by quite different means than staring at a but- 
ton or a lancet. 

The irrelevancy of the terms " reverie and abstraction " to 
the mesmeric state has been so aptly and clearly shown by 
Mr. Gurney in the article above cited (Proa, Part VII, p. 267), 
that it would be waste of time to dwell upon it. 

Of much greater importance is it to have a clear understand- 
ing of the terms " memory and recollection" Of all funda- 
mental, as well as of all derivative modifications, the law holds 
that : What once has been produced in the soul with any 
degree of perfection continues to exist, even wdien it has ceased 
to be excited, i. e., has become unconscious. It continues to 
exist in the substance of the soul as a vestige, that is, as a 
modified primitive force. This unconscious continuance of 
what has once come into existence (no matter in which of the 
different primitive forces of the soul) is memory (102). 

From this it follows that what has been produced in the 
soul during the mesmeric state with any degree of perfection 
must also continue to exist even when it has ceased to be 
excited or has again become unconscious. But how can we 
know that this is the case ? By the fact that the mesmeric 
subject is capable in many instances of remembering what has 
28 



42G OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

transpired during that state. This has been proven beyond 
any doubt by the experiments of the Committee on Mes- 
merism, and Mr. Gurney again gives an excellent account of 
it in his article on " TJie Stages of Hypnotism.'" (See Pro- 
ceedings, Part V, p. G7, etc.) But years before, P. G. van Ghert 
had discovered how he could easily make his somnambulistic 
subjects remember all they had seen and spoken during their 
somnambulistic state, by simply connecting these occurences 
to a single idea, which, when recalled during the normal state, 
would bring to consciousness all that had passed during the 
somnambulic state in connection with it. Thus a somnam- 
bulist, who had examined the condition of her lungs during 
that state, and had found them to be not so seriously affected 
as she imagined them in her normal state, complained to her 
mesmerizer (van Ghert) that she felt sorry that she could not 
know anything of what she then seen during her normal state. 
"Yes, you can," replied van Ghert, "if you will only direct 
your attention closely to what you then see, and connect it 
firmly to the number 'six.' Then when you get awake, if 
I ask you what you were to remember when I call your 
attention to the number ' six,' you will know everything about 
it." And so it was. Van Ghert adds : " I have been quite 
successful in the application of this procedure as often as I 
have practiced it, and consider it one of my most felicitous 
discoveries." (Archiv fur den thierischen Magnetismus, Vol. 
Ill, Part III, pp. 35-37). This was in the year 1818. 
Dr. Kieser has confirmed it more than once in the case of 
the boy Arst, around whose neck he tied a white ribbon, 
or pasted a wafer on his nose during his somnambulic state, 
with the admonition to remember what then had passed as 
soon as he would observe this sign when awake. {Archiv, Vol. 
VI, Part I, p. 165). And Dr. Fahnestock states that his subjects 
were capable of remembering all that happened in their mes- 
meric state " if they willed it." All this proves clearly that 
what has been produced in the soul during the mesmeric 
state with any degree of perfection also continues to exist after 
what has been produced has ceased to be excited or become 
unconscious (as is usually the case on entering again the 



THEORIES EXPLAINING THE MESMERIC STATE. 427 

normal state), and that it remains a property- of " the memory," 
an acquisition of the soul, although existing in a quiescent 
state. So long, however, as it remains in this latent state, it 
is of no practical use to us. If we can reproduce these 
acquired mental modifications in consciousness, or, as it is 
usually termed, remember or recollect them, we only really 
know that we possess them. The mere rising of latent 
modifications into consciousness, however, is not exactly what 
the term " recollection " expresses. Only when the process 
of becoming conscious starts from some main or leading no- 
tion, and proceeds so far that the notions of circumstances, 
time, place, etc., under which we formed that mental modi- 
fication, also become conscious with it (so that it is brought 
again into connection with our former life), can we say we 
have a recollection (102). 

This is not always the case after the mesmeric state. "Sub- 
jects" will sometimes perform exactly what they have been 
bidden by the mesmerizer after they have again entered the 
normal state, but have no recollection as to the time, circum- 
stances, etc., under which the command was given. It is a 
simple reproduction into consciousness of a conative modifica- 
tion which was excited during the mesmeric state; or the 
leading notion, to do this or that, rises into consciousness with- 
out exciting also the circumstances, etc., under which the notion 
took its origin. But when, as in the case of a gentleman 
upon whom the committee operated, he afterward remem- 
bered that it appeared to him as though he knew it to be 
wrong to say " yes or no," but he said the one or the other be- 
cause he felt impelled to do so by an influence of the mesmer- 
izer, and whether he said the one or the other did not matter 
much to him, then it is a recollection, because it is an excita- 
tion into consciousness of all the circumstances which took 
place at that time. 

This distinction between memory, reproduction and recol- 
lection we should bear in mind, for we may have reason to 
apply it to advantage further on. 

The different "theories" thus far advanced to explain this 
occult state have certainly failed to bring us nearer to an in- 
sight into the secret workings of the human soul. 



428 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

Automatism is truly applicable only to mechanical con- 
trivances wholly destitute of living forces; changes in cortical 
and motor centres, and also of the whole nervous system, and " in- 
hibition" should first be explained (why they occur, of what 
their nature consists, and how they can so abruptly be induced 
and again terminated) before they, with so much confidence, 
are made an explanation of this occult state. 

Attention riveted to an object which is of itself of an unex- 
citing nature, may in some cases, where it produces just the 
reverse (inattention to the surroundings), produce hypnotism, 
but is very far from explaining this state. Reverie and concen- 
tration are not at all applicable to the mesmeric state. What, 
now, is left us ? 

117. Psychological Considerations op the Mesmeric 

State. 

We shall not be able to advance to a satisfactory solution of 
the problem of mesmerism so long as we continue to consider 
soul and body as two diametrically opposite entities, the recip- 
rocal relation of which, though admitted on all sides, has thus 
far not been fully understood. I have endeavored to set this 
relation in a proper light when treating of force and matter 
and soul and body in 109 and 110. Here I can only refer to 
these explanations and mention that this relation is founded, 
upon the fact that soul and body consist of an uninterrupted 
circuit of living forces, from the highest mental — sight and 
hearing — to the lowest bodily — flesh and bone — forces; that, 
therefore, this relation may be simply reduced to an imme- 
diate transference of living forces upon living forces by the 
law of diffusion of mobile elements, which regulates not only the 
activities within the soul and within the body, but also the 
reciprocal action between the two (32). 

Considering first the ways and means by which the mes- 
meric state may be induced, we have to note the following : 

1. Induction by means of one's own will. — il Annals du Magnetism 
Animal, a Paris, chez I. G. Dentu, Imprimeur-Libraire, Rue 
du Pont de Lodi, No. 3, 1818," make mention of natural and 



PSYCHOLOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS OF THE MESMERIC STATE. 429 

voluntary somnambulism ; as voluntary are mentioned (a) a case, 
from Avicenna de Animalibus, of a man who could voluntarily 
paralyze his limbs ; (b) a case of a clergyman who could vol- 
untarily go into apparent death ; (c) the Turks, among whom 
voluntary ecstasy is quite common and hereditary; (d) the 
Brahmins, among whom voluntary somnambulism is said to 
be found frequently, and who even teach the ways and means 
to produce it. 

Hieronymus Cardanus could, by his mere will, put himself in 
ecstasy. He says : " As often as I want to I lose the use of my 
senses and enter the state of ecstasy, but cannot remain long in 
this state. I feel, or more properly expressed, I produce when 
I enter this state a kind of severance in the neighborhood of 
the heart, just as if the soul were leaving the body, and it is 
as if a door were opened, or a band around the brain had been 
loosened. The commencement of this feeling is in the head, 
especially in the cerebellum, and from here it extends itself 
with great power over the entire spine. I feel that I am 
external to my body and can keep myself only with great 
exertion in this state" (Sphinx, Vol. I, Part V, 1886, p. 329). 
To this class partly belongs Fahnestock's "Statuvolism." 
2. Induction by means of another's will — The most remarkable 
instance of this kind has been related by Dr. F. Zollner, in his 
Wissenschaftliche Abhandlungen, Vol. Ill, p. 532, as follows: 
"During his stay in Berlin, Mr. Hansen had frequent opportu- 
nities to mesmerize a jeweler, Mr. L. Ehrenwerth, 39 Jerusa- 
lemer Strasse, Berlin, and to observe particularly the strong 
psychic influence he had over this gentleman. One day Hansen, 
being invited by Mr. Ehrenwerth to dinner, found there, 
beside the members of the family, two other gentlemen likewise 
invited. While they all were conversing together a customer 
entered the store, which joined the sitting-room, but was sepa- 
rated from it by a door. Mr. Ehrenwerth went into the store 
to attend to the customer, closing the door behind him. At 
this time one of the persons present asked Mr. Hansen whether 
his power of influencing a person would reach into another 
room shut off from where he was. Mr. Hansen answered that 
he had had cases of this kind in his own practice, although 



430 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

only seldom, and that a number of such cases had been re- 
corded by trustworthy witnesses of other magnetizers. He vol- 
unteered to make a trial at once while Mr. Ehrenwerth was in 
the store, and asked the company to determine what he should 
will Mr. Ehrenwerth to do. One of the company proposed 
that Mr. Ehrenwerth should be made to select three of the 
costliest diamond rings in the store and hand them over to 
Mr. Hansen on his return. At once Mr. Hansen concentrated 
his will and ideas upon the proposed scheme. All w r ere listen- 
ing and watching behind the door to observe what Mr. Ehren- 
werth would do in the store. After the customer had left Mr. 
Ehrenwerth did not return to the company at once. They 
heard him walking about in the store, opening and shutting 
several glass cases, and finally approach, with lingering steps, 
the door of the sitting-room, which he opened, and then, to 
the astonishment of the whole company, went to Mr. Hansen 
and laid three diamond rings in his hand. Mr. Ehrenwerth 
did all this in a state of unconsciousness, similar to that in 
which those persons were who ate potatoes for apples when 
influenced by Hansen to do so. Not until Mr. Hansen had 
awakened him by blowing at him and calling aloud 'wake,' 
did Mr. Ehrenwerth return to his natural condition, without 
remembering the past manipulations he had performed." 

3. Induction by means of various manipulations of an operator — 
such as passes with the hands from the forehead down the 
arms to the hands, and holding the thumbs, or passes over 
the entire body, or laying the palms of the hands upon 
the pit of the stomach, on the head, or spine or different 
other places, or blowing upon the one or the other of these 
parts, etc., the usual method of old school mesmerizers ; or fix- 
ation of eye or ear upon " unexciting " objects — Braid and the 
modern mesmerizers. 

4. Induction by means of contact with mineral and vegetable sub- 
stances — such as Kiesers sideric baquet (Kieser's System des 
Tellurismus, Vol. I, p. 429 etc.), the milk-quartz in the case 
of Dr. Proll's patient (113), aconite in Van Helmont's case, 
which made him feel as though all his mental operations 
w T ere performed in the stomach; the perfuming substances 
w r hich were used by the priestesses of Delphi, etc. 



PSYCHOLOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS OF THE MESMERIC STATE. 431 

1. One's own will. — What is it? There lies the difficulty. 
Even here we will have to part with old accepted notions. 
The will is not a one power of the soul, as has been taught 
and received so generally, a power which can will anything it 
pleases. An act of will is quite a complicated mental process, 
as we have shown in 41. It requires 

(a) A special desire in connection with mobile primitive 
forces, which cause 

(b) An excitation into consciousness of all the, means by 
which the desired object may be obtained ; and, 

(c) The full conviction, beforehand, that the desired object 
can be attained by us, because we know ourselves in the pos- 
session, not only of the means, but also of the ability, to apply 
these means for that purpose. 

When, therefore, Hieronymus Cardanus and others could will 
themselves into the mesmeric state, they had to fufill all these 
conditions. They first had to have a desire to fall into this 
state ; secondly, they had to know and to rouse into conscious- 
ness the means by which this object could be accomplished; 
and thirdly, they had to know themselves in possession not 
only of these means, but also of the ability to apply these 
means. All this they had to possess, whether they found it 
accidentally, by study, or by the teaching of others, and they 
had to practice it until they became experts. For it is not 
sufficient that a desire and a knowledge of means to attain 
an object should exist in the soul separately. The two must 
be joined together in one conscious act (42), and then by repe- 
tition must be developed into prompt action. Cardanus does 
not tell us what these means were. He merely states : " As 
often as I want to, I lose the use of my senses," and then 
describes the feelings that followed. Fahnestock, in describ- 
ing the manner in which he put his patients into the mesmeric 
state by their own will, requests them to close their eyes and 
to throw their minds to some familiar place, to keep their 
minds steady and to form an image or picture of the person 
or thing in their mind, which they must endeavor to see (115). 
With some he succeeded quickly, with others only after many 
trials. 



432 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

This "one's own will," then, is not a general will-power, but 
a special desire conjoined in consciousness with a corresponding 
series of ends and means, which one must know he is able 
to apply to attain that end. There is thus nothing mysterious 
about its action. It is by the diffusion of mobile elements that 
the normal conscious state is converted into the abnormal or 
mesmeric state. 

2. Another's will. — The same is true of another's will, or of 
anybody's will. If one wants to influence another in a special 
way he must first have this special desire, this must be joined 
in consciousness with the corresponding series of ends and 
means, and at the same time he must be convinced that he is 
able to apply these means and thus attain that end. Without 
all this his desire will remain a " wish." If this desire and 
these ends and means are communicated by word or deed, we 
do not find anything particularly remarkable in the proceed- 
ing nor in the results. It is an occurrence of our daily inter- 
course with other people. But when we see another will affect 
a person at a distance, even through closed doors, without any 
of the usual means of sensory communication, as in the case of 
Hansen and Ehrenwerth, we feel rather perplexed at such effects. 
The solution of this problem, however, has partly been given in 
the chapter on " thought-transference," in 114. The excita- 
tion of the like or similar modifications in another mind is not 
a transference of psychic mobile elements in space. They are 
spaceless themselves, and therefore not restricted by corporeal 
boundaries. When Mr. Hansen compelled Mr. Ehrenwerth 
to do his (Hansen's) will, he had the desire to do so, and with 
this special desire joined at the same time the concentration of 
his primitive and partially modified primitive psychic forces 
upon Mr. Ehrenwerth, as the means to excite in his mind 
the similar modifications, which was the end to be attained. 
If he had not practiced this concentration for years, and, on 
the other hand, if Mr. Ehrenwerth had not been endowed 
with a receptivity responsive to it, the trial would not have 
succeeded. Scarcely another would have achieved these 
results, scarcely another could have been influenced in this 
way. But w r here the two meet (the ability of concentration and 



PSYCHOLOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS OF THE MESMERIC STATE. 433 

the receptivity for such psychic influence), success is assured 
upon the same laws of diffusion which govern the constant 
activity in our own minds. 

3. Manipulations of an operator. — "It is a fact that some 
persons can operate successfully and others cannot. There are 
all varieties, both of power and of susceptibility; but if we 
take a casual group of persons, omitting those who are in no 
degree susceptible, we shall probably find that they can be ar- 
ranged somewhat in the following order : A and B can hypno- 
tize themselves, either by the inward and upward squint, or, as 
it may sometimes seem, by mere imagination and expectancy. 
C and D cannot hypnotize themselves, but can be hypnotized 
by gentle rhythmical stroking by the hand of almost any- 
one. E and F can be slowly and partially affected by 
almost anyone, but immediately and thoroughly by a 
given ' mesmerist,' X. The rest of the representatives 
of the letters of the alphabet can be put into the sleep- 
waking state by X and by X alone, even though they may 
have no previous notion that X can affect them ; nay, even 
though they are distinctly told that it is not X but Y 
who will be able to control them. In such a case, as we 
have ourselves seen, Y may be a Goliath and X a David in 
comparison, but the big man will not succeed in doing in an 
hour what the small man, who has the specific gift, will do in 
five minutes." " And just as X alone can send these persons 
into the trance, so X alone can awake them out of it. It is 
very easy to take care that the subject shall have no previous 
notion that X alone will be able to wake him; and, as a 
matter of fact, the most striking illustrations of this rule are 
cases where everyone present, mesmerist included, is new to 
mesmerism, and believes that anyone who chooses can wake 
any 'subject' up again. A typical case is somewhat as 
follows: A group of persons at an evening party begin to 
mesmerize each other in joke. One of the guests sends a 
schoolboy to sleep and drives off, thinking nothing more about 
it. At the end of the evening the boy's parents try to wake 
him up. They cannot do so. The boy begins to rave, and is 
worse when touched or spoken to. Next morning they send 



434 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

in alarm for the guest who has done the mischief. He suc- 
ceeds in waking the boy, but the experiment is followed by a 
week of headache and depression." " The reality of the 
mesmeric influence is further shown in the distress and 
even danger which sometimes follows cross-mesmerization — on 
passes, that is to say, made by Z upon a person whom X has 
already mesmerized, and over whom X may make passes as 
often as he likes with only a soothing result. In such a case 
Z's passes or personal contact may very probably have no 
effect whatever; but in a specially sensitive ' subject' they 
sometimes bring about a state of mental chaos of alternating 
violence and bewilderment, which, though it almost always 
subsides after a time, constitutes a risk against which experi- 
menters in mesmerism must, before all things, be on their 
guard. To the reality of this singular state, whatever its 
cause, we can testify from personal experience." (Second Re- 
port of the Committee on Mesmerism. Proa, Part IV, p. 252.) 

From this it incontrovertibly follows that there is an effluence 
going from the operator to a "subject" who is capable of re- 
ceiving it. Braid and Fahnestock denied this effluence in toto, 
but both proved it by their successes, which they obtained where 
others had failed. It is certainly not an effluence which 
can be measured by electrometers, or barred by insulating 
glass-rods. It is force that acts upon force according to the 
law of similars, and for which exists only one reagent — the 
living organism. This explains why one person can operate 
successfully upon some persons and others cannot. The 
effluent forces must meet responsive forces, just as the light 
must meet sight-forces, or sound-waves must meet hearing- 
forces, as no amount of light will make us hear, and no amount 
of sound will make us see. This explains also the distress and 
even danger which sometimes follows cross-mesmerization. 
The double influence must necessarily, on account of its dis- 
harmony, produce confusion in the " subject," as well as oppo- 
site influences pouring at the same time upon one who is in a 
normal conscious condition, and ma}^be harassing to distraction. 

The various manipulations applied by operators may be 
merely convenient ways to which the one or the other operator 



PSYCHOLOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS OF THE MESMERIC STATE. 435 

has accustomed himself; but they may not be unessential. 
Braid succeeded best by fixing the eyes of the subject upon 
his lancet-case, held a little above the straight line of vision. 
The committee, trying this mode, had very little success with 
it (Proa, Part III, p. 220). Mr. G. A. Smith, who mesmerized 
successfully before the committee a given finger of a subject's 
hands by making passes over it and looking at it, did not 
succeed if he made the passes without looking, or if he merely 
looked at the finger without making passes over it at the 
same time. (Proa, Part IV, p. 257.) This seems to favor the 
supposition that the mesmeric influence may be exerted by 
certain manipulations more effectually than by others ; be- 
cause, on the part of the operator, he may be so constituted 
that the acting influence is more readily diffused through his 
eyes, his words, breath or hands ; and on the part of the subject, 
this influence may be more readily received by the eyes, ears, 
head, pit of stomach, etc. But all proves that the process 
rests on the diffusion of mobile elements. 

4. Contact with mineral and vegetable substances. — Everything 
in the material world is force, or rather a compound of forces, 
which appears to the different senses in different ways, accord- 
ingly as the nature of objects are capable of affecting the primary 
forces (109). The beneficial, as well as the noxious, effects of 
certain plants and minerals around us have existed as long as 
man has stood in communion with external nature, and the 
observation of these influences has gradually developed into 
the science of medicine. Indeed, this influence of external 
nature upon the human system is denied by no one. It exerts 
itself whenever it meets a responsive receptivity. The only 
dispute that could possibly arise here might be about the mass 
or quantity which could affect. However, as it has been proven 
millions of times that matter, even in infinitesimal doses, is 
capable of exerting a definite influence, and that m.atter, in 
certain forms, according to recent experiments of physicians 
made before the Congress of Physicians at Grenoble, August, 
1885, affects characteristically, even at a distance, some persons 
in whom is found a responsive receptivity, it may not be far 
from the truth to assert that even in such cases we have to deal 



43G OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

with a diffusion of forces upon forces, according to the law of 
similars. 

Thus, concerning the ways and means by which the mes- 
meric state may be induced, it may be said of all the methods 
of producing that state, that we can reduce them all to the 
simple law of the diffusion of mobile elements. 

We now come to the consideration of a more difficult point 
concerning the nature of the mesmeric state. The symptoms of 
this state have cursorily been given in 115, and the exami- 
nation of the means to induce this state may aid us in 
understanding these symptoms. We have first to consider 
the changes in the sensory functions during the mesmeric state. 
They, in part or as a whole, become dulled or entirely sus- 
pended or changed, for the time being. We cannot say of any of 
the senses that one or the other is invariably first affected. Sight, 
though, it seems, is the sense that in most cases first loses its ac- 
tivity. This, however, takes place only when the mesmeric action 
commences at the head or eyes (by passes, by riveting them 
to an " unexciting " object or closing them voluntarily). In 
cases of partial mesmerization, when only one part of the body 
— a finger or limb — is brought under the mesmeric influence, 
sight and other senses remain in a normal condition. Some- 
times the one or the other sense shows a heightened activity. 
Finally, all sensory functions lapse into complete torpor, 
accessible only to the passes, or the voice, or the will, of the 
mesmerizer. These are, in short, the effects which mesmeriza- 
tion exerts upon the sensorial functions. 

Let us first consider the dulling of sight. The essentials 
for an act of seeing are (1) psychic primitive visual forces; 
(2) external stimuli; (3) normal organs of vision. — We 
cannot assume that by the mesmeric influence the primitive 
sight forces are all at once exhausted, as they are at night 
after a day's work. Neither can we attribute the dulling 
of the visual sense to a lack of sight-stimuli, which are as abun- 
dant when the mesmerizing takes place as at any other time. 
There remain for our examination only the organs of sight. 
What are normal sight organs? Anatomy and physiology 
describe these organs with sufficient accuracy, so far as they 



PSYCHOLOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS OF THE MESMERIC STATE. 437 

appear to the senses, but anatomy and physiology do not pen- 
etrate to the forces that build these beautiful structures, 
keep them in proper condition, and animate the protoplasm 
for the particular office of seeing. Without these forces neither 
organs nor functions (or, in one word, life) would exist, and 
therefore we have designated them as the vital forces (73, 110). 
We can thus see that while the organs, that is, the formed 
material structure, might exist and remain in a perfectly nor- 
mal condition, their functions may be dulled or suppressed 
or changed to a greater activity, whenever the vital forces of 
these organs were influenced accordingly. This seems to take 
place during mesmerization. The influence of the operator 
seems to subdue the normal activity of the " subject's " vital 
forces (which govern the visual organs) into inactivity, so that 
the organs of sight lose their ability to perform their functions ; 
the sight grows duller and is at last entirely suppressed, until 
a reverse stroke, a word, or the simple will of the operator, 
withdraws this influence, liberates the " subject's " vital forces 
belonging to vision, and restores sight to the eyes at once. 
This also applies to all other sensory functions. But how 
can the influence of vital forces from an operator subdue or 
interrupt the normal activity of a "subject's" vital forces ? Just 
in the same way as strong external stimuli sometimes interrupt 
and subdue our normal mental activities. If suddenly a noise, 
music, or something of the kind, stimulates our sense of hearing 
while we are in meditation or conversation, the mental modifi- 
cations excited at the time disappear at once, and, only after 
the new excitation ceases, we may ask, perhaps, what was I 
thinking about? Of what did I speak? if we resume at all the 
previous train of thought. The effluence from the operator 
stands in exactly the same relation to the vital forces of a 
" subject " who is capable of sensing it, as sound does to the 
auditorial forces, or as any other external stimulus to its cor- 
responding primitive forces. It interrupts the normal activ- 
ity of the vital forces. The same applies when such influence 
is exerted by one's own will. Cardanus says : " I feel, or more 
properly expressed, I produce, when I enter this state, a kind 
of severance in the neighborhood of the heart, just as if the 



438 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

soul were leaving the body, and it is as if a door were opened 
or a band around the brain had been loosened. The com- 
mencement of this feeling is in the head, especially in the 
cerebellum, and from here it extends itself with great power 
over the entire spine." This denotes clearly a diffusion of mo- 
bile elements, starting from the brain down, in normal tracts 
through the spinal column, just as in case of willing to move or 
to keep quiet any member of the body, the mobile elements of 
the psychic act diffuse over the corresponding muscular forces, 
and either stimulate them to contraction or subdue them to re- 
laxation. This is the case also when the mesmeric state is in- 
duced by contact with mineral or vegetable substances. Under 
such circumstances we have forces which act according to their 
nature upon vital forces capable of being acted upon, either 
stimulating the same to greater activity or subduing them to 
torpidity, as the case may be. In short, the same universal 
law of diffusion of forces upon forces governs not only all 
mental, but also all bodily activities during life. 

The well-known rigidity and anaesthesia, general or partial, 
during the mesmeric state, is explicable on the same grounds. 
"Rigidity and insensibility," say the committee, "have, in our 
observation, always been conjoined; but it is believed that 
this is not always the case " (Proc, Part III, p. 228). " Anaes- 
thesia may be confined to some special part of the subject's 
body chosen by ourselves. Thus a limb, or portion of a limb, 
after being stroked two or three times by the operator's hands, 
would assume a condition of perfect rigidity, to which pinch- 
ing, pricking, burning, or strong electric shocks might be 
applied without producing the slightest protestor sign of pain. 
This condition would last for a considerable period. Indeed, 
the committee have not yet observed a case in which rigidity, 
when once fully induced, has disappeared of its own accord. 
The limb is soon restored to its normal condition when 
stroked with the hand, in the reverse direction " (Ibid., p. 227). 
The insensibility is often strictly defined. All parts above a 
definite line, apparently limited by the range of the "passes," 
are in a normal condition ; all below seem as void of sensa- 
tion as a piece of shoe-leather. Occasionally, while all sense 



PSYCHOLOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS OF THE MESMERIC STATE. 439 

of pain is destroyed, the sense of contact is, to a certain extent, 
preserved. When this is so the subject will feel a pin touch the 
skin, but cannot feel it driven into the flesh" (Ibid., p. 228). 

To this I shall add Dr. Braid's observations on this point : 
"During the state of cataleptiform rigidity the circulation 
becomes greatly accelerated. In many cases it has more than 
doubled the natural velocity ; and it may be brought down to 
the natural standard, in most cases in less than a minute, by 
reducing the cataleptiform condition. It is also found that it 
may be kept in a condition intermediate between these two 
extremes, according to the manipulations used; and that the 
blood is circulated with less force (the pulse being always con- 
tracted) in the rigid limbs, and sent in correspondingly greater 
quantity and force into those parts which are not directly 
subjected to the pressure of rigid muscles." " It is also im- 
portant to note, that by acting on both eyes in the manner 
required to induce the state of paraplegia, the force and fre- 
quency of the heart's action may be as speedily and percepti- 
bly diminished as the action of a steam-engine by turning off 
the steam. By again fixing the eyes its former force of velocity 
will be almost as speedily restored, as can be satisfactorily 
proved to anyone listening to its actions." (Neurypnology, or 
Hypnotism, p. 66.) 

These two series of observations are complementary to each 
other, and will help us to better understand these surpris- 
ing phenomena. Anaesthesia and rigidity may be confined 
to some special part of the subject's body chosen by the 
committee, and induced by a few strokes of the mesmerizer's 
hands over these parts. The mesmeric influence seems, there- 
fore, to affect only the parts to which it is applied. The parts 
lose sensation and mobility. Are the nerves or organs of 
sensation and motion altered? The adjoining parts above the 
insensible and rigid part retain their normal functions, and a 
reverse stroke of the operator's hand restores sensation to the 
affected part in a moment. All this does not favor the as- 
sumption of a profound change in the nerves concerned, still 
less of the whole nervous system, nor any inhibition of some 
unknown part of the brain. We are again obliged to fall back, 



440 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

as in the case of sight, upon the vital forces as the cause of 
functional activity, which are immediately acted upon by the 
mesmeric influence. If we add to this Dr. Braid's observation 
that during the cataleptic state the circulation becomes greatly 
accelerated, and that in the rigid limb the blood circulates with 
less force; that also acting on both eyes in the manner re- 
quired to induce paraplegia the force and frequency of the 
heart's action may be speedily and perceptibly diminished, 
and that by fixing the eyes again the former force and 
velocity will be almost as speedily restored — we see that mes- 
merization results in two opposite effects, produced at one and 
the same time: a dulling of sensation and mobility in the parts 
immediately under the mesmeric influence, and an accelera- 
tion of the circulation in other parts outside this direct influ- 
ence. How can these two opposite effects be harmonized? 

Dr. Braid ascribes the accelerated circulation to the difficulty, 
during the cataleptiform state, of the blood being propelled in 
due proportion through the rigid extremities, which would 
naturally cause a greater determination of blood to all other 
parts not compressed by rigid muscles. (Neurypnology , p. 155.) 
This mechanical view, plausible as it is, does not altogether 
meet the case, for it leaves the anaesthesia and rigidity unex- 
plained. Neither does it seem to entirely cover the ground, if 
we assume that mesmerization should act only upon one part 
(a finger or limb), and leave the remaining body unaffected. 
Dr. Braid seems to have felt this insufficiency, and he adds 
therefore : " I conclude that the ganglionic, or organic, system of 
nerves is also inordinately stimulated from the same cause, 
and thus, having acquired an undue preponderance, induces 
many of the remarkable phenomena which have been referred 
to." (Neurypnology, p. 156.) It is obvious that this clear- 
headed observer came very near to the truth. The ganglionic 
or organic (the sympathetic) system of nerves is the substratum 
of the vital senses, the means which they have formed and 
through which they act in the material world. The mesmeric 
influences find in the vital senses their similars, their re- 
sponding forces, upon which they can act ; just as light finds its 
corresponding forces in the sense of sight, or sound in the sense 



PSYCHOLOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS OF THE MESMERIC STATE. 441 

of hearing. By this stimulation the system of vital forces, the 
sympathetic system, gains a preponderance over the higher 
senses and their organs, just as in the natural waking state the 
activity of the higher senses predominates over the vital senses. 
If we add to this (and we should remember here what has been 
explained in 72 and 73) that, although the vital senses have 
the lowest degree of conscious capabilities, the excitation of 
their modifications is nevertheless the same in kind as the 
excitation into consciousness of the modifications of the high- 
est senses, and is governed, therefore, by the same laws, we 
gain a more intelligible basis whereupon to seek for an expla- 
nation of the remarkable phenomena of mesmerization. 

Let us assume, first, then, that: The mesmeric state consists 
of a predominant activity of the vital senses. The vital senses are 
not a one power, but a system of psychic forces, comprising the 
respiratory, circulatory, digestive, generative and (by means 
of the protoplasts) the formative agents, which produce all 
functiones vitales (3, 72, 73, and 110). 

Although they possess the lowest capabilities of developing 
conscious modifications, their actions in a normal state proceed 
unconsciously, yet when greatly agitated they may subdue 
even the strongest conscious modifications of the higher senses, 
which proves that the system of vital forces is closely con- 
nected with the systems of the higher senses and their products. 
In fact, together they constitute the human soul, or as we have 
expressed it in other places, the human soul is a system of 
diverse primitive forces, from sight and hearing, endowed with 
the highest capabilities for conscious development, down to the 
lowest in the scale of conscious development — the vital forces. 

Now the case lies thus: When the mesmerizing influence 
is successful we find that the subject falls into a state of quie- 
tude, resembling very much that of sleep, in which, as we have 
seen in 103, the assimilating activities prevail over the higher 
activities, the activity of the higher senses; and, if allowed to con- 
tinue for a time, the subject will lapse into general torpor. The 
eyes do not see, the ears do not hear, the nose does not smell, 
the tongue does not taste, the skin is insensible and the mus- 
cles are stiffened or relaxed. 

29 



442 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

What does this mean ? Is this really a deadening of the 
sense-forces ? Is it a profound change in the organs of sense, 
that is, an alteration in the formed materials which constitute 
the organs of sense ? It cannot be either the one or the other ; 
for a single stroke of the operator's hand, in a reverse direction, 
restores a mesmerized part in a moment to natural activity, 
or, according to Braid, extreme excitement of all the organs 
of sense, sight excepted, or great mobility and strength of the 
muscular system ensue from a puff of wind or a slight touch. 
{Neurypn., pp. 62-66.) How is this to be explained ? There 
remain for our consideration those vital forces which not only 
build all bodily organs, but also continually sustain their func- 
tions for us, that is, to our self-observation, unconsciously; but, 
nevertheless, their activity must be an excitation or conscious- 
ness of their own. If now the normal excitation is quieted 
down by the influence of a mesmerizer, their activity ceases, 
and the organ they animate loses its function, lapses into 
torpor, be it the organ of sight, of hearing, etc., or the nerves 
of general feeling, or of muscular action, or all conjoined. If, 
however, these vital forces are stimulated in one or the other 
of the sensory organs, that organ's function will be heightened 
in a degree which surpasses altogether its normal capabilities. 

Now, as the vital forces consist of a whole system of forces, 
and are not a one force, we can easily understand how it is 
that one part of the body may become wholly insensible while 
another is highly agitated, or in a normal condition. " The 
remarkable fact," says Braid, " that the whole senses may have 
been in the state of profound torpor and the body in a state of 
rigidity, and yet, by very gentle pressure over the eyeballs, 
the patient shall be instantly roused to the waking condition 
as regards all the senses and mobility of the head and neck — in 
short, to all parts applied by nerves originating above the origin 
of the fifth pair and those inosculating with them, and will 
not be affected by simple mechanical appliance to other organs 
of sense, is a striking proof that there exists some remarkable 
connection between the state of the eyes and condition of the 
brain and spinal cord during the hypnotic state." (Neurypn., 
p. 63 ) It further proves, I may add, that this sudden change 



CONSCIOUSNESS DURING THE MESMERIC STATE. 443 

from "a very gentle pressure over the eyeballs," cannot denote 
a profound change in the nerves themselves as formed ma- 
terial, but must be a change only in the supply of mobile 
elements (vital forces), which govern that tract of nervous 
structure described by Braid ; that, therefore, the vital forces 
act not as a whole, but may be excited or subdued in the 
single parts of the system they are destined to animate. This, 
it seems to me, is the true psychological explanation of partial 
insensibility and rigidity, and simultaneous agitation of the 
circulatory system, etc., or of the torpor of all the senses and 
rigidity of all voluntary muscles, and at the same time the 
possibility of instantaneous conversion of a part or the whole 
into a normal state by a few strokes in a reverse direction, or 
other manipulations of the operator. It is founded on the 
reciprocal relation of soul and body, or their oneness in their 
primitive forces, and the diffusion of mobile elements. 

118. Consciousness During the Mesmeric State. 

Fred. Wells remained normally conscious while under severe 
experimentation. Of his ten fingers, which had been securely 
hidden by a screen from his sight, two of them, selected by 
one of the committee, were mesmerized by Mr. Smith, the 
operator, in his usual manner, by making a few passes over 
them without touching them, while at the same time another 
of the committee made exactly like passes over two other 
fingers. Those mesmerized by Mr. Smith proved entirely in- 
sensible to the most severe stabs with a carving fork. 

" The stabs were on several occasions made with a violence 
which it required some nerve to apply, and which would have 
seemed barbarous to an ignorant bystander, unless he had 
chanced to note at the same instant the smiling silence or easy 
chatter of the victim." (Proa, Part I, p. 258.) 

This, however, is the case only when peripheral parts 
are under the mesmeric influence. When mesmerization 
commences at the head and upper parts of the body, and the 
entire individual has succumbed to the mesmeric influence, 
the condition of consciousness undergoes remarkable changes. 
The best observations on this point I find in the excellent 



444 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

article on the stages of hypnotism by Edmund Gurney (Proc., 
Part V, p. 61, etc.). He distinguishes two stages of the mes- 
meric state, the alert and the deep stage: 

"The alert stage," he says, " is the state in which a ' subject ' 
is when, after the usual preliminary period of gazing fixedly 
at some object held near the eye, or of having passes made 
over the upper part of his person, and after the usual invol- 
untary closure of his eyes, the strain on his eyelids is released 
by a few touches and words, and he is restored to what may 
look quite like his natural waking condition. Sometimes he 
will sit with a vacant air, irresponsive to every voice except 
that of the operator, and be clearly not in possession of his 
ordinary faculties. He may be made to perform imitative 
actions and to obey commands in a mechanical way; but his 
consciousness may be at a very low ebb, or (as some have held) 
may have lapsed altogether. But even these cases will exhibit 
two characteristics of the alert stage which are also character- 
istics of normal waking — the ' subject's' eyes will be open and 
capable of seeing; and he will (almost invariably) prove sen- 
sitive to pain if he be pinched or pricked. Very often, how- 
ever, the resemblance to normal wakefulness is far closer than 
this; for the ' subject' will be found to converse with perfect 
comprehension, memory and even humor, but he does not 
originate remarks. If not spoken to he will sit quietly, and if 
simply asked what he is thinking about he will almost always 
answer 'nothing.' If he be left completely to himself he will 
rapidly sink into the deeper state, and thence into hypnotic 
sleep, in either of which he will prove insensitive to any 
moderate amount of torture." " The passage into these deeper 
conditions, it should be observed, is often so rapid that the 
fact of their being reached through the alert stage may be wholly 
unnoticed. If the 'subject' is taken in hand during those 
few seconds before his eyes closed, and had been talked to or 
kept employed, this passage into the deeper state would have 
been prevented ; but if he is allowed to follow the natural 
course without interference, he will simply be seen to go to 
sleep, and he must be awakened by the operator before any 
phenomena can be exhibited." "The 'subject' can be made 
to do, and to continue doing, any action which the operator 
commands, although he may be perfectly conscious of making 
a fool of himself, and may strongly desire to resist the com- 
mand. He can also be put under the influence of delusions, 
can have his senses deceived, so that he mistakes salt for 
sugar, ammonia for eau-de-Cologne; or can even be made to 



CONSCIOUSNESS DURING THE MESMERIC STATE. 445 

believe that he is in some distant place, or that his identity is 
changed." 

" The deep stage is in turn liable to be confounded with the 
genuine hypnotic sleep. It resembles that condition in the 
fact that the eyelids are closed ; that if one of them be forci- 
bly raised the eyeball is found to be rolled upward; in 
the general insensibility to pain and to ordinary modes of 
stimulation. And there exists here precisely the same chance 
as we noted in the former case, that the particular stage will 
escape detection. If the ' subject ' be left to himself he will 
have no opportunity to manifest its characteristics, but passing 
rapidly through the period during which these might be re- 
voked, will soon lose consciousness and individuality in pro- 
found slumber. With some ' subjects,' moreover, the invasion 
of mental torpor is so rapid that it might be hard to fix and 
retain them in the genuine deep stage, even if the proper 
means were adopted. But many others, if taken in time, 
after their eyes are closed and they have become insensible to 
pain, but before sleep has intervened, will prove quite capa- 
ble of rational conversation. They are mentally awake, even 
when their bodies are almost past movement, and when even 
a simple command is obeyed in the most languid and imper- 
fect manner. This state is, however, harder to sustain at an 
even level than the alert one, owing to a stronger and more 
continuous tendency to lapse into a deeper condition. In the 
alert state the ' subject ' can usually be kept going for an in- 
definite time ; in the deep state he usually shows an increas- 
ing dislike to being questioned or meddled with." 

As regards " memory and recollection" Mr. E. Gurney states, 
in the same paper, the following most interesting observa- 
tions : 

1. " The events of normal life are remembered in either of 
the mesmeric stages" (p. 69, loco cit). 

2. " Recollection on waking of what has happened in the 
mesmeric state is frequently observed in 'subjects' quite 
fresh to hypnotism, especially of such actions as are usually 
exhibited on platforms — imitative movements, sneezing, laugh- 
ing, jumping and the like — also the effort to recall his name ; 
and he perfectly recalls not only the actions, but the feelings 
of acquiescence or of surprise, or of repugnance with which 
he performed them. A not uncommon description is that he 
felt as if he had two selves, one which was looking on at the 
involuntary performances of the other without thinking it 
worth while to interfere. Of performances which have in- 



44G OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

volved more complex mental ideas, and where his mind has 
been at the mercy of some concrete form of delusion, his re- 
membrance is dimmer. But still he will give some account 
of parts played by him in imaginary scenes, or even when 
under the impression that he was someone or something other 
than himself. After a very short course of hypnotization these 
illusory changes of scene or of identity, and even the simple 
mental operation of trying to recall some familiar fact, are found 
to have left no trace on waking; but the * subject' can still 
perfectly recollect the imitative and other actions which he 
has performed in propria persona, and the sort of feeling which 
accompanied them " (p. G7, loco tit). 

3. " With a favorable ' subject,' something that has hap- 
pened during one of the hypnotic states will often recur to the 
memory on the next occasion when that state is produced, 
though in the interval of normality — amounting, it may be, 
to several days and nights — which has intervened between 
the two occasions, it has been completely forgotten." 

4. " The same phenomena will occur, and even much more 
certainly, when a deep state intervenes between two alert, or 
an alert between two deep states. I have then found that the 
ideas impressed in the one sort of state are invariably forgotten 
in the other, and are as invariably again remembered when the 
former state recurs. Thus the ' subject,' when in the alert 
state, is told something — some anecdote or piece of ordinary 
information — which we will call A. He is then thrown, or 
allowed to fall, into the deep state with closed eyes, and is 
asked, ' What were you told just now? ' He is quite unaware 
what is meant, nor will the broadest hints recall the missing 
idea. He is now told something else, which we will call B, and 
is then reawakened into the alert state. Being asked the same 
question as before, he at once repeats not B, but A, and it is 
impossible to evoke in him any memory of B. Thrown again 
into the deep state, he in a similar way recalls B, and A has 
once more vanished. Finally he is completely awakened, 
informed that two things have been told w T ithin the last five 
minutes, and offered £10 to sa}^ what either of them was — w T ith 
a result entirely satisfactoiy to the experimenter. Occasionally 
I have succeeded in hitting a transitional moment, at which 
both things were remembered; but it was a sort of knife-edge, 
and the slightest manipulation or pause tending to deepen the 
condition brought about the customary separation and oblivion 
of the thing told in the alert state " (p. 70). 

5. Exceptions. , " If the idea impressed in the alert state is a 
delusion, involving either a change of scene or a change of 



CONSCIOUSNESS DURING THE MESMERIC STATE. 447 

identity, it is not remembered in the usual way." "Waking to 
the alert state by any sudden means always ensured forgetful- 
ness, carrying the ' subject' at once over that low degree of 
the alert stage where recurrence of the delusion was possible. 
If brought back to the alert stage by gentle upward passes, or 
also if the same delusion be again suggested in a general way, 
the details of the former one will be remembered." 

6. " If to one idea, e. g., that he cannot move his arm, another 
action is added, e. g., reading a newspaper, the ' subject ' will, 
on returning again to the alert out of the deep stage, remem- 
ber only one of the two." 

7. " If the thing impressed on the ' subject's ' mind in the 
deep state is a command which he is to execute ' on waking? he 
will execute it as soon as he returns to the alert state ; or, if 
allowed to w T ork off his trance in natural sleep, he will usually 
perform the act on normal waking ; but if the act has been per- 
formed in the alert state, he will have no recollection of it when 
brought to his normal state." " A singular point in connection 
with this obedience is that it seems apt to fail in cases where 
a vivid and interesting idea is suggested at the same time as 
the command." 

8. " Obedience also fails in the following case : If a com- 
mand has been imposed in the deep state and the ' subject ' is 
woke into the alert, and then, before he has time to perform it, 
is put under a delusion, this will suspend the performance of 
the act. Thus, a youth w T ho had been told that he was to put 
on his hat and begin reading the newspaper, and had then 
been roused, was on the point of carrying out the command 
when he was suddenly told he was a chicken. He instantly 
went down on the floor and began to cluck. He was then 
allowed to lapse into the deep state, and again brought out of 
it; he now at once performed the order. In this particular 
instance the order was not remembered in the second deep state, 
though carried out on emergence from it. But this feature 
was not found to be constant " (p. 72, loco cit.). 

The first question arising here is : Why are the events of 
normal life remembered in either of the mesmeric stages? 
One W'Ould suppose that if there be difficulty in carrying con- 
sciousness from the mesmeric into the waking state, there would 
exist a like difficulty the other way ; but this is evidently not 
the case according to all experience. Why, then, are the 
events of normal life carried into consciousness in either 
of the mesmeric stages? Because the mesmeric condition 



448 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

does not alter or change in any way the contents of the mind, 
that is, its acquired modifications. They remain unaffected, and 
will be made conscious whenever mobile elements excite them, 
be that during waking or in either of the mesmeric stages. 

But, second question : Why are the events which happen 
during the mesmeric state forgotten in the waking state? 
Because these impressions are formed on an evanescing basis, 
under a transient condition which, when disappearing, with- 
draws also the basis of all that has been enacted upon it, 
and dissolves, not the modifications excited then and there, 
but the connection that existed between the single parts of these 
enactments. We have already, in 103, spoken of this singular 
phenomenon as it presents itself in the non-remembrance of 
some dreams. This evanescing basis or transient condition 
consists in the preponderating excitation of the sympathetic 
system (the system of vital forces) over the higher senses, 
which latter alone are endowed with capabilities for the de- 
velopment of clear, conscious and enduring modifications 
and combinations in consequence of their greater retentive 
power (7). The vital forces and lower senses lack this 
quality, and although their development produces the same 
forms of mental modifications — percepts, conations and feel- 
ings — these percepts only attain to vague sensations, the cona- 
tions to vague desires, and the feelings to vague moods. 
Thus it is clear that mental enactments roused into conscious- 
ness upon such a basis must necessarily lose their connex 
whenever this condition gives way to the preponderance of 
the higher senses, the " waking" state — that, in short, they are 
forgotten. 

But they are not forgotten in many instances, as Gurney's 
observations, cited above, clearly show. Recollection is carried 
into the waking state most frequently in fresh " subjects." " A 
not uncommon description of the 'subject's' observation is 
that he felt as if he had two selves — one which was looking on 
at the involuntary performances of the other without think- 
ing it worth while to interfere." This clearly confirms our 
position. In the fresh " subject" the transition into the mes- 
meric state is not a perfect one; it is still mixed to a certain 



CONSCIOUSNESS DURING THE MESMERIC STATE. 449 

extent with the influence of the higher senses, is still con- 
nected with a partial consciousness of waking life. It is 
this remnant of waking life which forms the observing self, 
while the involuntary performances, pranks, etc., induced on 
the basis of excited vital forces, constitute the other self. 
Both belong to the same soul, both are, therefore, selves of the 
"subject," and, therefore, the comparison with two selves is not 
improperly chosen. 

When, however, " the performances involve more complex 
mental ideas, and where the mind has been at the mercy of 
some concrete form of delusion, his remembrance is dimmer," 
because the mental ideas and concrete delusions conjoined by 
the transient condition of the mesmeric state will readily fall 
asunder when this condition ceases. But still some parts of 
the enactment will remain connected as far as the remnants of 
w T aking life have taken part in their formation. We should 
not wonder then " that after a very short course of hypnoti- 
zation these illusory changes of scene or identity, etc., are found 
to have left no trace on waking ; " for the frequent repetition of 
the mesmeric state makes that state more perfect, and sepa- 
rates it more sharply from the influence of the higher senses 
of the waking state, while the imitative and other actions which 
the "subject" has performed in 'propria persona cling still to 
the •modifications of the muscular sense and its normal actions, 
so that they can be drawn over into the consciousness of normal 
waking; that is, the " subject" will recollect them and also 
the sort of feeling which accompanied them. 

3. A still greater proof of the correctness of this view is the 
observation " that something that has happened during one 
of the hypnotic states will often recur to the memory on the 
next occasion when that state is produced, though in the in- 
terval .of normality — amounting, it may be, to several days 
and nights — which has intervened between the two occa- 
sions, it has been completely forgotten." The reason why it 
is forgotten during the normal state is because the preponder- 
ance of the higher senses withdraws the basis upon which it 
was formed, and dissolves, therefore, the connection by which 
it w T as made a conscious " something," while this connection 



450 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

will be re-established again when the same conditions of exci- 
tation during the preponderance of the vital forces are again 
in full activity. This same feature has been observed in per- 
sons who, during a state of intoxication, had put something 
in a certain place which, on getting sober, they had entirely 
forgotten, but is remembered readily on the next occasion 
in which they are in the same drunken condition. It is not 
the " something " that is lost or extinguished ; but it is the 
changed condition which makes it possible or not to excite it 
again into consciousness. Even during the waking state we 
observe facts which approach to some extent this peculiar 
fitness or unfitness for reproducing things long gone by. A 
beautiful spring day, with its balmy air, may suddenly recall 
in us scenes and occurrences of our childhood, without having 
any similarity to them except the peculiar mood which it 
arouses in us, and wdiich corresponds to that of the by-gone 
days ; and so must the poet or philosopher be in a suitable 
mood for the successful operation of his mind, without which 
the necessary mental modifications will not rise into conscious 
excitation, although he may possess them. 

4. " The same phenomena will occur, and even much more 
certainly, when a deep state intervenes between two alert, or 
an alert between two deep states." The reason is the same: 
The conditions of the two stages differ likewise from one an- 
other. While the alert stage still retains some elements of the 
waking state, the deep stage appears entirely void of them, and 
its enactments ensue, therefore, upon a still more dissimilar 
basis. With the change of this basis, either way, the connec- 
tion between the single items, which is produced by the mobile 
elements of this very basis, is broken up also, and only upon 
a renewal of the same condition can this connection be re-es- 
tablished. It is not, to repeat it again, that the items of the 
enactments themselves cease to exist; it is only their connec- 
tion and excitation, produced at the time by the then prevail- 
ing mobile elements (which fade away with the conditions then 
existing), and therefore their reproduction in consciousness 
whenever these conditions are re-established. This explains 
also why, as Gurney expresses it, "in hitting a transitional 



CONSCIOUSNESS DURING THE MESMERIC STATE. 451 

moment," that is, a moment where the bases of the two states 
are intermingling, both things, one made conscious in the alert 
and the other in the deep stage, may be remembered, because 
at that moment the elements for the excitation of both things 
are present. We have yet to consider the, exceptions stated by 
E. Gurney, to these regular occurrences. 

5. If the idea impressed in the alert state is a delusion, in- 
volving either a change of scene or a change of identity, it is 
not remembered when the waking from the deep to the alert 
stage is done by any sudden means; but when the "subject" 
is brought back by gentle upward passes the delusion may 
revive again. These delusory enactments (the "subject" being 
made to believe himself elsewhere than in the room where he 
actually is, or to assume the part of another person or an 
animal) are so foreign to the entire normal contents of the 
mind, and themselves such unreal and artificial combinations, 
that it requires a low degree of the alert stage to induce them 
as realities in the mind of the " subject." In the nature of 
delusions lies, therefore, their tendency to dissolution; and 
they can be brought about only when the "subject" is near 
the boundary of the deep stage, far away from any influence 
of the higher senses. " Waking to the alert state by any 
sudden means always ensured forgetfulness, carrying the 'sub- 
ject' over that low degree of the alert stage where recurrence 
of the delusion was possible." Only broad hints may again 
renew the former delusory imaginations. 

All this confirms the correctness of our view that remem- 
brance even of delusions is possible only on the same basis, 
or the same mental condition upon which they were pro- 
duced. 

6. If to the one idea, e. g., that he cannot move his arm, 
another action is added, e. g., reading a newspaper, the "sub- 
ject" will, on returning from the deep to the alert stage, re- 
member only one of the two. 

"A boy's arm was thus extended. He became unable to talk 
rationally, and, being set to read aloud, he did so in a stupid 
and mechanical way, and could not recollect what he had read. 
He was now passed into the deep state, during which his arm 



452 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

dropped, and, on being recalled from this state, was asked what 
he had been doing just before he went to sleep. He replied 
that he was holding his arm out, but both forgot and utterly 
denied the fact of reading." 

In this case evidently the reading of the newspaper ensued 
on a lower plane of the alert stage than the stiffening of his 
arm ; for he became unable to talk rationally, he read in a 
stupid way and could not recollect what he had read, and then 
passed into the deep state. Each of the two actions was, there- 
fore, enacted upon a different basis, which prevented their 
union into one conscious act; and, on being recalled from the 
following deep state, he was at once carried over that low de- 
gree of the alert stage where a recurrence of " his having been 
reading" was possible, and therefore remembered only what 
had been enacted on a higher degree of his alert stage, "the 
holding out of his arm." Mr. E. Gurney makes to these " ex- 
ceptions " the following most appropriate remark : " There are 
thus sub-divisions of recollective power within the alert stage 
itself." 

7. If a command is impressed on the subject in the deep stage, 
and a vivid and interesting idea is suggested at the same time, 
obedience will fail in such a case. "Thus, several subjects 
who were told in the deep state that a fire had broken out at 
home, and that they must go and help to put it out, on being 
recalled to the alert state, sat without moving, and denied any 
impulse to do anything." Here we have undoubtedly a differ- 
ent psychical process from that in the case above related. The 
command is, so to say, "swallowed up" by the vivid idea, or so 
intimately incorporated with the same, that its revival would 
be possible only with a revival of the same idea. As, 
however, on entering the alert stage the idea loses its excitation, 
the command is also forgotten; or, as Mr. Gurney correctly ob- 
serves : "The idea produced a strong mental picture which, in 
disappearing with the change of state, involved the further dis- 
appearance of the sense of obligation " (p. 72, loco cit). 

Obedience in the waking state to a command impressed during 
the mesmeric state needs some further remarks. The " subject " 
brings no recollection into the normal state of a command given 



CONSCIOUSNESS DURING THE MESMERIC STATE. 453 

to him while entranced. He merely feels an impulse to do so and 
so, and has no ease until it is done. But he absolutely knows 
nothing of who gave this order, or when and under what cir- 
cumstances it was given. It is, therefore, not a " recollection," 
but a reproduction of a conative modification. (Compare 102.) 
A similar process, although in a reverse order, takes place 
when, before going to sleep, we determine to wake up at a cer- 
tain hour. 

In either case the conative modification (to do something) 
continues to exist, although its association with other modifi- 
cations, then conscious, vanishes with the change of basis fol- 
lowing. Only as a command and determination it survives 
these changes, and unfolds its activity when the condition for 
it arrives. Command, as well as determination, imply striving 
elements, and it is a fitting expression used by the " subject " 
when he describes the feeling as a mere impulse to do so. In the 
same way the sleeper is not conscious of anything. He merely 
commences to feel restless about the time he has determined to 
wake, and he wakes up. 

8. That obedience should fail when its execution is inter- 
rupted by another lively delusion, is quite natural, the latter 
taking up the mobile elements necessary for the performance. 
It will be executed on the next waking, if nothing interferes. 
Such events happen to us every day in normal life. We are 
on the point of doing something when we are interrupted by 
the occurrence of something else, which makes us forget our 
first intention completely until the new excitement is over. 
That the command is sometimes not remembered when the 
"subject" is again put into the deep state, though carried out 
on emergence from it, depends on whether the association 
under which it was given is also renewed in the second deep 
stage. If this is the case, the command will be resuscitated 
into consciousness ; if not, it will not be remembered. This is 
the reason why " this feature was not found to be constant" 
(p. 72, loco cit). 

We find still other and highly important experiments made 
by Mr. E. Gurney, in this very interesting state of conscious- 
ness during the post-hypnotic performance of a hypnotic com- 



454 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

mand. They are ably presented by the author in Vol. IV 
of the Proc. S. P. R., from page 268-323, under the heading: 
" Peculiarities of Certain Post-hypnotic States." 

The question has been raised : " Whether the mind of the 
' subject,' during the post-hypnotic performance of a hypnotic 
command, is in its ordinary waking state, and the idea of per- 
forming the action presents itself just as scores of ideas whose 
immediate origin is not obvious, and is carried out just as any 
spontaneous whim might be carried out?" Mr. Gurney's 
answer is: "That the psychological condition of the 'subject' 
during the post-hypnotic performance of hypnotic commands, 
and also during the intermediate period after waking and 

f>rior to the performance, really admits of great variety." 
Vol. IV, p. 269.) 

" There are cases in which no reason whatever appears for 
regarding the state in which the action is performed as other 
than normal. The ' subject's ' account of it afterward is as of 
something which it just occurred to him he would like to do, 
and which he did because he chose. While he does it he is in 
his usual relation to the external world, and can converse 
naturally and rationally, and both the performance itself and 
the surrounding circumstances are completely remembered 
afterward " (p. 270). 

The only peculiarity in these cases is the absence of recol- 
lection of the fact that a command had been imposed. The 
conative modification alone was reproduced by means of a 
given signal, which had been enjoined upon the "subject" 
during the trance-state when the command was made, for 
instance, to do a certain thing after a certain action of Mr. 
Gurney's. In some cases even a faint recollection of the 
source from which the impulse originated was dimly resusci- 
tated, so that the " subject" flatly refused to obey, saying: " I 
know you want me to do it, but I shall not do it ; it is too 
absurd;" because she w T as w T ider awake in consequence of 
former experiences, and thus able to discriminate between her 
own normal impulses and such as were imposed upon her. 

" There are cases where the action, though performed with 
every appearance of naturalness and without any impairment 
of the normal consciousness, proves to be completely forgotten 
within a few seconds of its performance ' (p. 271). Yet even 
this was not a constant sign, as there were cases wdiere the 
memory of the action remained intact. 



CONSCIOUSNESS DURING THE MESMERIC STATE. 455 

"A still better test to prove the abnormality of mind during 
the performance of the action was the imposition of a new 
command, of a sort that the 'subject would regard as a joke 
and would never carry out if he received it when in a normal 
state, but which would be fulfilled as a matter of course if im- 
pressed on him in a state of hypnotic sensibility" (p. 271); or 
by " imposing, while the execution was in progress, not the 
command of a future action, but the suggestion of a future 
hallucination-" for instance: "W — s was told that as soon as 
he came next day he was to take an umbrella from a corner 
of the room, open it and walk about the room with it. He 
arrives and at once fulfills the order; and while he is examin- 
ing the umbrella, Mr. S. (the mesmerizer) tells him that when 
he (Mr. S.) asks him after his wife, I (Mr. Gurney) shall dis- 
appear. Immediately after this a change came over W — s' 
face, and he ceased fumbling with the umbrella, and asked in 
surprise how he came by it. Some other experiments ensue, 
and then, while he is talking quite naturally to me, Mr. S. 
says to him, * How is your wife, Fred ?' He instantly looks 
up and around, asks where Mr. Gurney has gone to, and shows 
much astonishment" (p. 272). 

" Yet another test was suggested by the fact that things 
heard in the hypnotic state, though forgotten on waking, are 
remembered when the hypnotic state again supervenes. If the 
1 subject,' while post-hypnotically executing an order, showed 
remembrance of some quite different topic which had been 
suggested to him while entranced, it would be the strongest 
proof that the state of trance was to some extent renewed, espe- 
cially when the idea was one that had been suggested on some 
quite different occasion, and so could not have been in any 
way associated with the command." This, too, was proved 
by experiments with the "subject" "W — s, who remembered 
during his post-hypnotic performances things which had been 
suggested to him in former mesmerizations not at all con- 
nected with the present (pp. 273 and 274). 

These various experiments show distinctly that the post- 
hypnotic state during the performance of a hypnotic command 
is a more or less abnormal state of the mind, whether the 
memory of the action vanishes or continues afterward. Mr. 
Gurney distinguishes this state by the term " trance-waking," and 
some French author has called it "veille somnambulique." The 
recognition of it and its proof by experiments is quite a pro- 
gress toward a better knowledge of these obscure mental pro- 



450 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

cesses, and may help us still further in deciphering them. 
Mr. Gurney carries his researches still farther, and examines 
also the mental state which lies between the hypnotic state 
and the time when a hypnotic command ripens into perform- 
ance. We have stated already that a hypnotic command 
produces in the mind of the " subject " a conative modification, 
which is resuscitated as soon as the signal for its execution is 
given, either by the lapse of a certain time, or the entering 
into a certain room, or another sign made by someone and 
enjoined upon the " subject " during the hypnotic state. It 
runs parallel to the knot we bind in our handkerchief to 
remind us of something we want to do, which we might other- 
wise forget; or to the particular signs impressed during trance by 
van Ghert and Kieser in order to make the " subjects " remem- 
ber their trance states when perceiving them on coming back 
to the normal state. No doubt this explanation will be 
sufficient in many cases, especially where the time after the 
hypnotic command is short, or the signal, e. g., the entering of 
the same room where the hypnotization had taken place, might 
reinstate the same condition and set the impulse free, etc. 
Although this explanation does not rest upon a physiological 
basis, such as automatical action (which explains nothing and 
which has been spoken of on some former occasions as a mere 
play with words), yet even taken psychologically it is not 
fully sufficient for all the cases known. To these cases we must 
count those where a long time is set between the command and 
its performance, without the date of the day being mentioned, 
or marking the first day of the year, of a month or a week, etc., 
by any peculiarity, but where the command is simply that such 
or such a thing shall be performed by the " subject " after, say 69 
or 119 days have elapsed. " The vital (physiological) process," 
Mr. Gurney remarks trenchantly to this, "will no more work out 
such a measurement as this than a school-boy's digestion will 
work out a proposition of Euclid." Nor will, we may add, any 
psychological process hit the date without actually counting it out 
and watching its coming, not even during normal consciousness. 
There must be something in activity deeper than a mere 
external signal to rouse the hypnotically implanted impulse 



CONSCIOUSNESS DURING THE MESMERIC STATE. 457 

into action at the proper time, a time which not only requires 
to be accurately calculated, but which must also be watched 
as it approaches. The normal consciousness of the "subject" 
knows nothing of the command, consequently cannot calculate 
the date of its performance nor watch its coming. What then, 
in such cases, does count out the date and watch its approach? 

To answer this question Mr. Gurney has made a series of 
experiments, the result of which he sums up in the following 
words (p. 293) : 

" They exhibit in a direct and conspicuous way a secondary 
memory and secondary play of mind in the post-hypnotic 
state, and the severance of the normal or primary from the 
latent or secondary consciousness." " The secondary ' self ' 
took its .own course in such complete independence of what 
passed during its latent period, while the primary ' self was 
ostensibly in possession of the field, that external impressions 
then received passed unregarded, and there was no moment 
at which the doings of the two selves were juxtaposed or asso- 
ciated in normal consciousness." "Again, as regards the 
hidden processes of mentation during the period preceding 
the fulfillment of a command, our evidence so far has been 
derived from the statements made by the 'subject' when 
once more in a state of trance. But we shall now be able to 
ascertain the workings of this secondary consciousness in the 
reckoning of time and signals, without any previous calling of 
it to the front by rehypnotization; its work is not only done, 
but tested, while the normal self remains uninteruptedly in 
the ascendant, and shows absolutely no sign of change. Yet 
again, we shall now find manifestations of other sorts of 
reflection and calculation, which go considerably beyond mere 
temporal measurements in the degree of hidden psychical 
activity which they involve." 

To make this clear, I shall cop} 7 the following experiments : 

" P— 11 (the ' subject ') was told on March 26th, that on the 
123d day from then he was to put a blank sheet of paper in an 
envelope and send it to a friend, of mine, whose name and 
residence he knew, but whom he had never seen. The subject 
was not referred to again till April 18th, when he was hypno- 
tized and asked if he remembered anything in connection 
with this gentleman. He at once repeated the order, and said : 
'This is the 23d day; a hundred more.' 

" Mr. S. — ' How do you know ? Have you noted each day ? '' 

" P — 11. — ' No ; it seemed natural.' 
30 



458 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

11 Mr. S.— ' Have you thought of it often V 

"P — 11. — 'It generally strikes me in the morning, early. 
Something seems to say, ' You have got to count.' 

" Mr. S. — ' Does that happen every day ? ' 

M P — 11. — ' No, not every day ; perhaps more like every 
other day. It goes from my mind ; I never think of it during 
the day. I only know it's got to he done.' 

" Questioned further, he made it clear that the interval between 
these impressions was never long enough to be doubtful. He 
1 may not think of it for two or three days, then something 
seems to tell him.' He was questioned again on April 20th, 
and at once said : ' That is going on all right ; twenty-five 
days;' and on April 22d, when in trance, he spontaneously 
recalled the subject and added, 'twenty-seven days.' After 
he was awakened, on April 18th, I asked him if he knew the 
gentleman in question or had been thinking about him. He 
was clearly surprised at the question, said he fancied he had 
once seen him in my room (which, however, was not the case), 
and that the idea of him had never since crossed his mind." 
(Proa, Vol. IV, p. 290.) 

"On March 16th, I showed P — 11 a planchette — he had 
never seen or touched one before — and got him to write his 
name with it. He was then hypnotized and told that it had 
been as dark as night in London on the previous day, and 
that he would be able to write what he had heard. He was 
awoke, and, as usual, offered a sovereign to say what it was 
that he had been told. He was then placed with his hand on 
the planchette, a large screen being held in front of his face, so 
that it was impossible for him to see the paper or instrument. In 
less than a minute the writing began. The words were : It 
was a dark day in London yesterday. He professed, as did all 
the 'subjects' on every occasion, complete ignorance as to 
what he had written, and, I believe, with perfect truth. I 
repeatedly expressed a desire to know, and offered the sover- 
eign if they would tell me; but their account was always that 
the instrument took their hand with it, and that they could 
not detejct what letters it formed. They showed no curiosity 
in the<matter, and I did not urge them to try to interpret the 
movements, which, no doubt, could be done with practice " 
(p. 294). 

" As this last experiment might prove only a mechanical 
repetition of the impression received during trance, the follow- 
ing will show processes of deliberate reckoning and reflection 
which it is almost impossible to conceive as having only a 
physiological existence." 



CONSCIOUSNESS DURING THE MESMERIC STATE. 459 

" The ' subject/ W — s, was asked by Mr. S. during trance, 
'What puts out fire?' and then instantly awakened. Set to 
the planchette, his hand at once wrote water" (p. 303). 

" The ' subject,' S — t, was told during trance to add together 
4, 7, 8, 11, 12, and was awakened on the instant. The written 
result w r as 42 (right). He was told to multiply 683 by 7, and 
was awakened on the instant. He was kept talking while his 
hand wrote 4681. On rehypnotization he remembered wait- 
ing this, but said he believed it was wrong, the 6 should be a 
7. He was told to multiply 534 by 3, and was awakened on 
the instant. The result, written with extraordinary rapidity, 
and concluded within three seconds of the giving of the order, 
was 1602 (right) " (p. 305). 

" P — 11 was told to write the names of three places begin- 
ning with L, and was instantly awakened. The planchette 
wrote Lewes, Lanscalian, Lewisham, the second name being in- 
terpreted as Lancaster, when he was rehypnotized. A similar 
trial with the letter H produced Hastings, Hamsted, Hanover; 
and a trial w T ith the letter T, Torque, Torrington, Tottingham 
Court. During the first of these experiments he was engrossed 
during the writing with the hallucination of a wildcat (a hallu- 
cination can always be imposed for a short period after wak- 
ing, though otherwise the ' subject ' is to all appearance in a 
completely normal state), which, on rehypnotization, he said he 
' hadn't liked the looks of — it looked half starved.' While writ- 
ing the T names he was roaring with laughter the whole time 
at the hallucinatory spectacle of a pantomime, and describing 
the doings of the clown. On April 18th, a wider field of 
choice was given him, in the direction to write down any- 
thing that had happened in Brighton during the past year, 
after which he was instantly awakened. Set to the plan- 
chette he read aloud a description of a play from a news- 
paper; and meanwhile his hand wrote: A horse ran away last 
Easter Monday along the King's Road. This was a fact, and had 
caused considerable excitement. Again, he was told to write 
dowm the earliest thing he could remember, and was instantly 
aw T akened. He was made to count backward from a hun- 
dred, which he did slowly and with stumbles; meanwhile his 
hand w T rote ' One day when Lwas going to school, I was going 
up the street, L picked up a shilling and L gave it to mother, and she 
was pleased with it! It turned out that this was a real event 
which had happened when he was about five years old. Still 
earlier memories w r ere similarly evoked. ' When I had the 
scarlet fever some woman brought me in some bulls' eyes on a piece 
of paper! ' One day when I was rocking the cradle with my little 



400 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

brother Charley I turned the cradle over.' This last occurrence 
took place when lie was about three. He overturned the cradle 
in a passion at the baby's peevishness. 

" I think that the above simple and often imperfect writings 
afford an extremely strong presumption of an intelligent and 
not merely mechanical origin " (p. 307). 

This is proved still more by experiments which show, not 
only a reckoning of time by executing an order at approxi- 
mately the right moment, "but by writing produced during 
the period of waiting, at some suddenly -selected moment, which 
the 'subject' could not foresee when the process began, so that 
there could be no question of the 'setting of the organism' for 
a certain time ahead. A further novel point w T as the proof 
afforded, in some cases, that the order itself w r as remembered 
and realized by the secondary consciousness during the period 
throughout which the dominant primary consciousness was 
wholly without knowledge of it." 

"W — s was hypnotized and told that in 6 minutes he w ? as 
to blow a candle out, and that he w r ould be required at some 
time before then to write the number of minutes that had 
passed and the number that had still to elapse. He w r as 
awakened, laughed and talked as usual, and of course knew 
nothing of the order. In about 3J minutes he was set down 
to the planchette, which wrote: 4J — 1 more. About a minute 
passed, and then I requested Mr. S. to rehypnotize him; but 
just as his eyes were beginning to close he raised himself and 
blew out the candle, saying, ' It's beginning to smell.' Hyp- 
notized and questioned he remembered all that he had done; 
and when it was pointed out to him that 4J and 1 do not 
make 6, he explained the discrepancy by saying, 'It took half 
a minute for you to tell me ; I reckoned from the end of your 
telling me.' This of course does not explain his reckoning the 
time before he wrote as a minute longer than it was; but that 
is not a larger error than any one of us might commit in com- 
puting such a period " (p. 308). 

The first point in this series of experiments that claims our 
attention psychologically is the result at which Mr. E. Gurney 
arrived: "These experiments exhibit in a direct and conspicu- 
ous way a secondary memory and a secondary play of mind in 
the post-hypnotic state, and the severance of the normal or 
primary from the latent or secondary consciousness." It appears 
as though there were two selves acting independently of each 
other at the same time. 



CONSCIOUSNESS DURING THE MESMERIC STATE. 461 

Already Dr. Du Prel, in his Philosophic der Mystik, lays great 
stress on this duality of consciousness, and arrives finally 
at the conclusion: "Das menschliche Subject besteht aus zivei 
Personen " (p. 422, Phil. d. Mystik). In my opinion Du Prel 
here oversteps, in his speculative mood, the boundaries of cool 
and sober reasoning. All the arguments which he enlists 
in proof of this idea, and which he works out with great 
ability and ingenuity (pp. 420-442), demonstrate after all only 
that the soul is capable of assuming two different states or 
conditions — a normal one, in which the sense-organs are in full 
activity (waking life), and an abnormal one, in which this 
sensory activity is subdued or entirely arrested, varying from 
the condition of common sleep, with its dreams, to hypnotism 
or somnambulism, with its apparently wonderful phenomena. 
Mr. E. Gurney speaks much more advisedly of this dual state 
of the soul in a foot-note on page 295, where he says: 

" The word 'self is too convenient to be dispensed with, but 
must not be misunderstood. In such cases as these the ' second- 
ary self 1 is a mere rudiment of a personality. It is no more 
than a short connected train of intelligence, of whose activities 
and products the normal self is unaware ;" and he calls, there- 
fore, one the normal or primary, and the other the latent or sec- 
ondary consciousness. This is much more according to the facts 
than the assumption of a double personality. The whole ques- 
tion turns on what we understand by the concept " I," of which 
we have spoken in 105. We. should bear in mind that with 
the word " I," as it is in use, we really signify four different 
kinds of self-perceptions. In using it we may think (1) of 
the whole man, consisting of soul and body, as when one says : 
I live, I dwell at Leipzig ; or (2) we may think exclusively of 
the soul, as when we say: I increase in knowledge, I am im- 
mortal ; or (3) we may think mainly of acquired permanent 
qualities by which we are distinguished both from others and 
from that which changes in ourselves, as when a man says : I 
am a musician, I am an astronomer ; or (4) we may mean 
merely those activities of the soul which are for the moment the 
strongest in consciousness, as when we say: I am glad, I am 
angry. In all these cases it is not a concept that is directly 



462 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

concerned, but a percept ; for when self is expressed, as it is in 
the above examples, it is not as something universal and 
general, but as something particular and concrete. This is 
precisely the case when the " I " presents itself in dreams or 
during the trance-state. It does not denote a " second self" 
or second " person," but merely such mental activities as are, 
for that time, the strongest in consciousness. It is, as Mr. Gurney 
well remarks, " a mere rudiment of a personality," " a short 
connected train of intelligence, of whose activities and pro- 
ducts the normal self is unaware." The " normal self," or the 
simple concept " I," which is characterized as the union of all 
the perceptions we make of ourselves and of all other men- 
tal modifications, have this one feature — they all belong to the 
one and the same being, and therefore constitute one and the 
same person. The normal self or ego in these trance-states is 
not in conscious activity, and, therefore, not in a condition to 
perceive or to regulate the sort of activities that are going on 
then and there. The conscious activities then prevalent are 
excited on the basis of the vital senses, whose actions, in the 
normal waking state, pass on unawares to our self-perception, 
but become prominent when the systems of the higher senses 
sink into inactivity, as in sleep, in trance, in apparent death ; 
they then cause a consciousness on their own basis, by exciting 
as mobile elements into activity, from the stock of acquired 
mental modifications, whatever may be suggested to the " sub- 
ject," or may otherwise stand in relation to the subject's being 
at that time. It is not, then, a " second person" that acts and 
thinks at such moments, but the very same person, the " I," 
which, however, is constituted of only those mental activities 
which are at that time the strongest in consciousness, and 
does not embrace the simple concept "I," that universal and 
general idea which is derived from the single feature, that all 
that takes place in the soul belongs to one and the same being. 

This hypnotic consciousness is a partial activity of the same 
soul, "subject" or " person," induced upon the basis of the vital 
senses, in opposition to the recognized " five senses," which 
latter unfold their action during the " waking state." It may 
be called a " secondary " consciousness, but it is not less a con- 



CONSCIOUSNESS DURING THE MESMERIC STATE. 463 

sciousness than that which is enacted upon the basis of the 
waking five senses. It is the same in character, namely, an 
excitation of certain acquired mental modifications, accord- 
ing to the same laws which govern all excitations into con- 
sciousness. (Compare especially 99.) Of a "second person" 
we can speak only figuratively, in the same sense as it 
is employed of one who changes his views and acts differ- 
ently from what he might have been expected. We then say 
he seems to be quite a different person. 

A greater difficulty presents itself in the fact that these two 
consciousnesses run parallel to, and independent of, each other; 
that "there was no moment at which the doings of the 
two selves were juxtaposed or associated in normal conscious- 
ness." But if we consider that the activity of the vital senses 
is normally a hidden one, governing and directing nevertheless 
and continuously all functiones vitales without begging leave of, 
or allowing interference from, the consciousness of the "five" 
senses, we need hardly be taken aback by the discovery of 
Gurney, that the consciousness on the basis of the vital senses 
actually continues to pursue its own course in counting and 
watching the time when a special impulse implanted during 
that state shall be executed unbeknown to the "waking" con- 
sciousness; nor is it surprising when we find that the "subject" 
during the performance falls partially back again to the same 
state (trance-waking) in which the command was given, because 
the fulfillment is essentially a continuance of that state, which 
merely comes to the surface as its last link. If it were not 
thus, foolish commands would not be executed at all, as we see 
in those cases where the " subject " by experience has learned 
to discriminate between an impulse imposed and a natural 
impulse to do something. In such cases the sense-waking pre- 
ponderates over the trance-waking. Neither need we wonder 
that during this state of consciousness, on the basis of the 
vital senses, actual " mentation " is performed. The mobile ele- 
ments of this basis do no more nor less than do the mobile 
elements during waking life. They excite into consciousness 
mental modifications according to the law of similars and ac- 
quired associations ; and in some cases the mental activity on 



464 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

this basis may succeed even better than on the basis of waking 
life, where so many external influences often prevent and 
break up a train of thought which, during the occlusion of the 
five senses, is easily and correctly broughtto perfection, or where, 
during special excitement of the vital senses, whole systems of 
knowledge may be revived, which are absolutely inapproach- 
able during the normal state of conscious mental activities. 

There is still another subject which is closely related to the 
above, and which we must consider separately, namely : The 
influence of suggestions upon the " subject " while in the state of 
trance. The "subject" can be made the victim of any hallu- 
cination the fancy of those present may suggest: That he be 
somebody else than himself, or an animal, or a statue, or that 
one side of his body be a nurse and the other a windmill, and 
so on ad infinitum, associated with an astonishing power of 
representing these various suggestions by exact imitations of 
their characters. It does not appear to me to be a definite 
gain to accept as an explanation the common view: "That in 
certain states of the nervous centres suggested ideas may acquire 
a dominant and practically irresistible force," because it does not 
tell us the least as to the nature of those " certain states of the 
nervous centres," nor of the reasons why suggested ideas should 
acquire such power. Even if we admit, as we do, that nervous 
centres act their part in these strange phenomena, we do not feel 
justified in burdening them with the whole work, just as little 
as w r e would ascribe to the hand the whole action of writing a 
letter or playing a tune. This explanation is an easy way of 
hiding behind some scientifically sounding words, the meaning 
of which is still an undiscovered x. We must try to explain 
the phenomena better. 

Suggestions take effect fully only when the " subject " has 
succumbed completely to the mesmeric influence; that is, 
when the vital forces have gained the predominance over the 
activity of the higher senses so far that the consciousness of 
the ego has lost its controlling power. 

" I " — What is it ? To repeat once more : It is the union 
in one concept of all perceptions we have made of ourselves. That 
they all belong to us, to one and the same being, is the dis- 



SUGGESTIONS DURING THE MESMERIC STATE. 465 

tinctive feature by which they are united in the one concept 
" I " (105). 

The ego is, therefore, a very strong mental modification, 
and, if fully conscious, controls our actions. However, this is 
not always the case. In sleep, even in deep thought, sometimes 
we forget ourselves; that is, the concept of our ego remains 
unexcited, and the mental modifications then excited roll off 
without the ego's controlling influence. A "subject" in trance 
is in the same condition. His ego is likewise unconscious, and 
the ideas suggested to him rule supremely. To believe that he 
is a "fish" or a " bird " his conscious " I " would never admit, 
but during the unconsciousness of his ego anything of the 
kind is possible, if suggested to him ; that is, if the modifica- 
tions are excited in him ab extra; for without such external 
influence they would not be excited, or, as Mr. E. Gurney 
very truly remarks, "the ' subject' does not originate remarks." 

But how is it possible that the "subject" in this partially 
conscious state can perform such astounding mimicry? Be- 
cause a lively excited mental modification will always excite 
such other modifications which have been more or less inti- 
mately associated with it on former occasions. (Compare 98 
and 99.) 

So far as such associations exist, so far will his mimicry 
extend, and no farther; and the mimicry will always be of 
this individual character. Suggest to some four or five " sub- 
jects" in a trance that they are in church, and one will 
kneel down, another commence praying, a third appear to be 
attentively listening, and a fourth perform some ritualistic 
ceremony, etc., every one according to his individuality, that 
is, according to the associations which exist in him from former 
excitations and habits. 

In this class of phenomena also belong Dr. Braid's phreno- 
logical experiments. By stimulating a phrenological organ he 
was able to excite such mental modifications as are located by 
phrenologists in those organs. He says on p. 99 of his Neuryp- 
nology: "Touching the patient's scalp with a knobbed glass 
rod, three feet long, has produced the phenomena (of exciting 
phrenological organs) with my patients as certainly as per- 



46G OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

sonal contact, so that if there is anything of vital magnetism 
in it, it is subject to different laws from that of ordinary mag- 
netism or electricity. 

" Mere pointing I have myself found sufficient to excite the 
manifestations in several patients, after previous excitement of 
the organs; but this arises from feeling, as I know the sensibil- 
ity of the skin in those cases enables them to feel without actual 
contact. 

"The following experiment seems to me to prove clearly that 
the manifestations were entirely attributable to the mechanical 
pressure operating on an excited state of the nervous system. 
I placed a cork endways over the organ of veneration, and 
bound it in that position by a bandage passing under the chin. 
After hypnotizing the patient, after a minute and a half had 
elapsed, an altered expression of countenance took place, and 
a movement of the arms and hands, which latter became 
clasped as if in adoration, and the patient now arose from the 
seat and knelt down as if engaged in prayer, etc." 

I do not believe that the conclusions Dr. Braid draws from 
these experiments are correct ones. If he supposed that vital 
effluence was subject to the same laws as ordinary magnetism 
and electricity, he mistook the nature of vital magnetic influ- 
ence altogether. The effluence of a magnetizer cannot be 
barred by a glass rod. 

If he saw manifestations excited by merely pointing, after 
previous excitement of the organs, and ascribed this effect to 
the sensibility of the skin to feel without actual contact, he 
confounded the sense of touch with the sensitiveness of the 
subject to mesmeric influence. 

And finally: 

If he saw a clear proof in exciting these phenomena by the 
pressure of a cork, that they were entirely attributable to me- 
chanical pressure operating on an excited state of the nervous 
system, he did not know that the handling of the cork by him- 
self would so impregnate it with his own effluence, that press- 
ure of the cork or of his own finger would amount to the same 
thing as a direct contact. 

The difference, however, between this mode of exciting cer- 
tain mental manifestations and that of verbal suggestion is 
this: Verbal suggestion rouses directly certain ideas into 
consciousness, while the application of gentle pressure with the 



HALLUCINATIONS. — DELUSIONS. 467 

finger or otherwise upon certain phrenological organs, excites 
into activity the vital forces which govern these organs, as we 
have seen above. How far also verbal and mental suggestions 
might have helped in these experiments, is not quite clearly 
seen from Dr. Braid's description of the mode of operating for 
phrenological manifestations. Dr. Braid says : " If from gentle 
pressure upon a certain phrenological organ no change of 
countenance or bodily movement is evinced, use gentle friction, 
and then in a soft voice ask what he is thinking of, what he 
would like or wish to do, or what he sees, as the function of the 
organ may indicate" This rather looks like suggestion, though 
only in gentle hints. Still it is possible that the mere excitation 
of certain groups of granules in the gray matter, or rather of 
certain vital forces which govern these groups as organs, for 
the manifestation of certain mental activities, is alone sufficient 
to produce these phenomena. 

119. Hallucinations.— Delusions. 

Hallucination (alucinatio) denoted originally a " wandering 
of mind, fickleness, dreaminess, reverie." In later times it has 
been applied especially to sensory delusions. Mr. Gurney, in 
his article on Hallucinations, in Proc, Vol. Ill, p. 151, etc., 
also in Phantasms of the Living, Vol. I, Chapter X, pp. 457-495, 
defines sensory hallucination as "a percept tvhich lacks, but 
which can only by distinct reflection be recognized as lacking, the 
objective basis which it suggests — where the objective basis is to be 
taken as a short way of naming the possibility of being shared 
by all persons with normal senses." He then discusses the 
question of central or peripheral origin, and the difference 
between creation and excitation, and comes to the conclusion 
that in some cases the excitation is external, in others doubt- 
ful, and in still others absent; but "wherever initiated, hallu- 
cinations are assuredly created by the brain from its own re- 
sources." 

MM. Binet and Fere, in their interesting book on " Animal 
Magnetism," state that " hallucination consists in the vivid external 
projection of an image " (p. 222) ; that " one image provokes 



468 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

another by virtue of the bond which unites them, and in the 
same way the second suggests the third " (p. 223). 

" What is meant by external projection ? We answer that it 
is the belief in the reality of a thing. The external projection of 
an image is, therefore, the belief in its reality " (p. 223). 

MM. Binet and Fere go on to prove their proposition that 
a hallucination is produced by an excitement of the sensory 
senses, by very interesting experiments in regard to the phe- 
nomena of contrast (pp. 249-252); in regard to subjective sen- 
sations (pp. 252-255); in regard to the mixture of imaginary 
colors (pp. 255 and 256), and in regard to phenomena observed 
with reference to the eye (pp. 256-262), all of which deserve a 
very careful perusal. In Part IV they show the influence of 
sesthesiogens, especially of the magnet, upon hallucinations; 
and wind up in Part V by demonstrating that a hallucina- 
tion may be destroyed by three different processes: By sugges- 
tion, by physical excitement and by the magnet (pp. 262-276). 

All these researches into the phenomena of hallucination 
are undoubtedly very interesting, but do they really explain 
the nature of these strange psychic occurrences? If halluci- 
nations "are assuredly created by the brain from its own re- 
sources," we would like to know how the brain can create 
percepts which lack the objective basis which they suggest? 
Or if hallucination consists in the vivid external projection of 
an image, and this external projection of an image is the 
belief in its reality, we wish to know why such an external 
projection takes place, and by what process the belief in the 
reality of an image is established? 

I cannot see how the nature of hallucinations as a psychic 
problem can ever be solved by applying our researches to the 
bodily organs, which only furnish the conditions and means 
under and by which the soul externalizes its own activities. 
Neither the brain as a whole, nor special centres in it, can 
ever create hallucinations. They are psychic actions. We 
must examine them psychologically, and for this .purpose 
let us first inquire into the question: Why do we believe our 
external perceptions based upon some external reality, or 
consider them as derived from and representing real objects? 



HALLUCINATIONS. — DELUSIONS. 469 

Actually existing for us only are the images or representa- 
tions in us of the external world. The things outside remain 
outside and foreign to us. We can never penetrate into their 
actual being or be the like of them, and, for aught we know, they 
may exist only in our imagination. This has been the view 
of Idealism for centuries, and, although always combatted 
by Realism, nevertheless culminated in Kant and Fichte in 
its extremest point: That a comprehension of existence alto- 
gether lies outside the pale of human capabilities. This, no 
doubt, overshoots the mark. For we ourselves are an existence, 
which manifests itself undeniably in our self-consciousness. 
This self-consciousness, this immediate knowledge of any and 
all our psychic actions as our actions, as not only belonging to 
us, but as being existences in us, is the basis without which 
we could not even have the idea or notion of "existence," for 
each notion or concept requires concrete sensations and per- 
ceptions, out of which, by the fusion of their like constituents, 
the concept-forms arise (15). 

But, beside this immediate perception of our psychic activi- 
ties, we also perceive ourselves bodily by means of our exter- 
nal senses. The perceptions of our body differ in no way 
from the perceptions we have of any other external things. 
They consist in perceptions of form, color, stature, size, sound, 
motion, etc., but do not reveal in the least what and how these 
various parts are in themselves (an sich). Our body is, indeed, 
quite as external to the soul as are other bodies of the external 
world. 

Why is it, then, that we nevertheless conceive our body as 
belonging to us, and other things as not? Because our body is 
invariably present to us, and all changes ivhich it undergoes run 
parallel with our self -consciousness, thus forming by degrees a bond 
of union so strong that we conceive body and soul as one, or at 
least as linked together seemingly inseparably. 

This is not the case with the things of the external world. 
They are not invariably present to our consciousness. They 
change without particular relation to our mental states. They 
may grow, burn or rot, and we would not be conscious thereof, 
except under certain circumstances, while any change in our 



470 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

body at once effects our primitive forces and makes itself 
known to us. This constant association of bodily and mental 
actions, this reciprocal relation between the two, gradually 
segregates the perceptions of our body from all other external 
perceptions as something specifically belonging to us. 

But this process of association does not end here. It extends 
further, although at first only to similar objects closely con- 
nected with us. The child hears its mother's voice, sees or 
feels her face, breast or hand. With these external percep- 
tions associate at the same time the feelings of the child's own 
existence, which, no matter how faint and obscure at first, has 
nevertheless taken a start into being with the child's first 
psychic activities. It is this faint feeling of its own existence 
that the child transfers instinctively to its mother as being of a 
like existence. 

Still later these associations extend to surroundings, and 
finally draw into their net of connections the entire external 
world, so far as it can be grasped by finite capabilities, and in 
this way the human mind gradually becomes habituated to 
attribute or ascribe an existence which it carries in itself as an 
immediate experience, as a knowledge, "an sich" to all other 
things, and to recognize them as existing like itself, not as 
belonging to itself, but as external objects. This whole subject 
has been elaborated much more fully than it can here be given, 
by Beneke, in his " System der Metaphysik und Religions- Philoso- 
phic" (Berlin, Ferdinand Diimmler, 1840), from page 43-136. 

After this digression we again return to the subject of "Hal- 
lucinations." 

As our own sensations and perceptions, being the only imme- 
diate existences for us, are gradually transferred (first to 
our body as an existence belonging to us), so our perceptions of 
outside things by constant associations are gradually converted 
(for us) to external existences or objects. The belief in 
the reality of any external thing is, therefore, founded in the 
reality of our own mental modifications, which underlie and 
are transferred to outside things, from which certain stimuli 
are derived. Now then, if certain external stimuli which are 
faint and indistinct, should excite only similar mental modi- 



HALLUCINATIONS. — DELUSIONS. 471 

fications, e.g., an indistinct object in the dark, the idea of a 
ghostly figure, this mental modification will be ascribed or 
referred to the external thing, and will appear to us what 
we conceive it to be, a ghost, although it may be nothing but the 
stump of an old tree. Nevertheless, we have in this case a real 
existence, the mental modification of a ghost in us is transferred 
outside of us to an object which is not anything like a ghost, 
but one which, merely on account of its faint stimuli, has 
aroused in us the image or mental modification of a ghost. We 
think or believe it to be a ghost merely because the idea of a ghost 
is roused in us into consciousness, and thus a present conscious 
existence in our mind is referred to something external (which 
is something entirely different). Such mistakes we call sensory 
delusions, and they stand in very near relation to " hallucina- 
tions," and the one may taper indefinably into the other. But 
hallucination is considered generally as a " percept which lacks 
the objective basis which it suggests," yet presupposes some 
kind of stimulus which excites some mental existence, that is, 
some mental modification, percept, idea, image, etc., however 
we may call it, into consciousness, without which neither a 
delusion, hallucination, nor even a correct normal perception 
could take place. For this reason Mr. Gurney discriminates 
very properly between the creation and excitation of a hallu- 
cination. We have spoken of exciting stimuli at length in 
former chapters. (Compare 3, 12, 13, 32 and others.) We may 
here restate briefly that they are either external or internal 
mobile elements. It is quite likely, therefore, that in some 
cases external stimuli, in other cases entirely internal stimuli, 
may initiate hallucinations. The first would approach more 
or less to sensory delusions, the latter to hallucinations proper. 
But, as both fuse indefinably into one another, there is no 
reason to raise a quarrel on that account. Neither is it my 
purpose to draw a definite line between the two, particularly 
as there exists none in nature. In all cases of hallucination 
there must be an exciting element which " initiates " them : 
that is, which raises one or some certain mental modifications 
into consciousness, as in the well-known case of Nicolai, as 
well as in those witnessed in hysterical patients in Paris. 



472 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

Without an excitation into consciousness of a mental modifi- 
cation there is no hallucination. I hold it, therefore, misap- 
plied labor, no matter how ingeniously conducted, to attempt to 
find out whether this excitation should be placed in the sensory 
organs, or in higher or lower brain organs. They may be 
initiated by any of the different systems of senses, higher, 
lower, or vital senses. At any place in the body, therefore, they 
may be initiated alone by the diffusion of mobile psychic ele- 
ments (void primitive forces and partially modified primitive 
forces, as shown in 13). They are 'psychic activities, and no 
amount of research will ever elucidate anything further than 
that certain corporeal organs take a certain parallel action 
when the soul externalizes its own activities. 

The conditions under which hallucinations take place are 
quite varied. We find them in the conditions of sleep, 
drunkenness, of poisoning with opium, hashish and other nar- 
cotics, especially belladonna, hyoscyamus and stramonium, 
and also under the action of numerous other drugs, such as 
petroleum, platina, sulphur, etc. We find them in hypnosis, in 
somnambulism, in fevers and many mental diseases. Whera- 
ever hallucination is found, it is a mental modification, or a 
group of mental modifications, which, being in lively excita- 
tion, transfer their own existence to external things as objects 
with which they are connected by previous association. 

We have still to apply this psychological explanation to 
some of the Parisian experiments. 

The authors of the book mentioned above say: 

"One of the most striking characteristics of hypnotic hallu- 
cination is the permanence of its location. If, by means of sugges- 
tion, a portrait is caused to appear on a sheet of card-board, 
both sides of which are alike, the picture will always be 
seen on the same side of the card-board it occupied at the 
moment of suggestion, so that the picture may not be inverted, 
nor even inclined. If the card-board is turned upside down 
the portrait is seen with its head downward. 'The subject ' 
never makes a mistake. If his eyes are covered, or if the ex- 
perimenter stands behind him while changing the position of 
the object, his answers are always in conformity with its orig- 
inal localization" (p. 224). 

"All these experiments seem to imply that the hallucinatory 



HALLUCINATIONS. — DELUSIONS. 473 

image produced in the 'subject' by verbal suggestion does not 
remain in his brain in a vague and floating state. It is prob- 
able, as M. Ch. Fere has shown, that this image is associated 
with some external mark — a dot for instance, or a raised spot — 
some distinctive feature of the blank card which was shown to 
him when the suggestion was made, and this association of 
the cerebral image with an external mark would explain the 
series of facts of which we have given an account " (p. 225). 

" If instead of putting the pack of cards into the ' subject's' 
hands we show him the imaginary portrait while holding it 
two yards from his eyes, the card still appears to him to be 
white, although a real photograph would appear to be gray. 
If the card is gradually brought nearer to his eyes, the imag- 
inary portrait becomes visible, but it must be brought much 
nearer than the ordinary photograph before the ' subject' can 
say for whom it is meant. This peculiarity can be explained 
on the assumption that the hallucinatory image is evoked by 
distinctive marks (points de repere) on the card, which are only 
visible at a short distance. The imaginary object presented by 
hallucination is perceived under the same conditions as if it 
were real " (p. 226). 

It appears to me that this explanation is perfectly correct, 
and it is further strengthened by the following observation : 
" Repeated attempts have convinced us that the microscope 
enlarges the hallucinatory image — that a spider's foot becomes 
enormous — but we have not observed that hypnotic sub- 
jects discover details invisible to the naked eye " (p. 232). 

This shows clearly that the " subject" cannot " see," i. e., become 
conscious of anything but what his mental modification con- 
sists of. Details invisible to the naked eye, the " subject " has not 
acquired as mental modifications, and, therefore, cannot repro- 
duce them. The microscope enlarges the distinctive marks, 
and consequently also all the dimensions to which the im- 
aginary picture is applied. 

Further : " Since the imaginary object created by hallucina- 
tion acts in all respects as if it were real, it may be asked 
whether that object is concealed by the interposition of a screen. 
This depends upon the 'subject,' and the results are extremely 
varied. In the simplest case the hallucination is destroyed by 
the screen, and the 'subject' declares that he has ceased to see 
anything. In the case of other 'subjects' the screen has not 
this effect. The hallucination persists without any change of 
31 



474 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

place, and if the subject is ordered to seize the object of sug- 
gestion, his hand goes to the other side of the screen in search 
of it. In other 'subjects/ again, the imaginary vision is not 
interrupted by an opaque body, but the object is transferred to 
that body. We are unable to assign a cause for these varia- 
tions, which may be noted in different 'subjects,' and some- 
times in the same 'subject,' in the course of a series of experi- 
ments "(p. 234). 

Considered psychologically there does not seem to be any 
difficulty in explaining these variations. On the contrary, 
to our view they appear as confirmations. It depends entirely 
upon what other mental modifications are aroused simultane- 
ously with the interposition of a screen. As a usual thing 
the interposed screen will rouse the supposition in the " subject" 
that the thing before in view is now covered from view, and 
this, if strong enough, will at once wipe out the imaginary 
picture. If not strong enough to cancel entirely the suggested 
idea of the picture, and the other idea is roused, that it is 
merely covered and still behind the interposed screen (an oc- 
currence frequently observed in normal life), the "subject" will 
search for it on the other side of the screen. But, if the excita- 
tion of the suggested picture is so great that it does not allow 
any of these suppositions to arise in consciousness, the imag- 
inary vision will simply be carried upon the interposed screen. 
That these variations may happen even in one and the same 
"subject" in the course of a series of experiments is natural 
enough, because even the same "subject" will not always be in 
the same condition. 

Furthermore: " Paul Richer was the first to show that in 
the case of most hysterical 'subjects' it is impossible for their 
visions to accept hallucinations of color. Since the eye has lost 
its chromatic sensitiveness, it cannot see the colors of an im- 
aginary object " (p. 247). "For instance, if the eye of a 'sub- 
ject ' which is open has lost the perception of violet, it is im- 
possible for that color to enter into any of her hallucinations, 
unless the other eye, which retains the sense of that color, is 
opened." "It is now almost certain that hysterical achroma- 
topsia results from a functional disturbance of the cerebral 
cortex, and not from any lesion of the retina, or of the media 
of visual perception " (p. 248). " This belief leads to the con- 
clusion that, if this functional disturbance is the same hin- 



HALLUCINATIONS. — DELUSIONS. 475 

derance to the hallucination as to the perception of a given color, 
it is probably because these two phenomena, perception and 
hallucination, employ the same class of nervous elements. In 
other words, hallucination occurs in the centres in which the 
impressions of the senses are received, and it results from an 
excitement of the sensory centres " (p. 249). 

What could be plainer and prove more satisfactorily our posi- 
tion, that hallucinations are possible only on the basis of exist- 
ing mental modifications, than these quotations from Richer. 
Before imaginary pictures, etc., can be " seen or heard outside," 
they must first exist and be excited into consciousness in the 
mind. If not there, no amount of suggestion or other excite- 
ment will ever produce a hallucination either of color or 
anything else. And it does not make any difference at all to 
which organ or part of an organ physiologists may agree or 
disagree to ascribe the presence or absence of such mental 
modifications and their excitation. 

We have yet to consider MM. Binet and Fe'r^'s so-called 
negative hallucinations. They give samples of this kind in 
their book on Animal Magnetism : 

" ' On awaking you will be unable to see, or hear, or in any 
way perceive M. X — , who is now present. He will have com- 
pletely disappeared.' Accordingly, when the * subject ' awoke she 
saw all the persons who surrounded her with the exception of 
M. X — . When he spoke she did not answer his questions, and 
when he laid his hand on her shoulder, she was unconscious 
of the contact. He put himself in her way, and she walked 
on and was alarmed to encounter an invisible object. We are 
ignorant how this phenomenon is produced, and can only 
accept the external fact; namely, that when a 'subject' is 
assured that an object present has no existence, the suggestion 
has the direct or indirect effect of establishing in his brain an 
anaesthesia corresponding to the object selected. But it is still 
a question what occurs between the spoken affirmation, which 
is the means, and the systematic anaesthesia, which is the end. 
We cannot, as in the case of hallucination, assume that the 
word spoken to the 'subject' and the phenomenon produced 
are connected by association. If it is true that the image of 
a serpent is associated with the words: 'There is a serpent,' 
it cannot be said that the incapacity for seeing M. X — , who 
is present at the time, is also associated with the words: 'M. 
X — is non-existent.' In this case the law of association, 



476 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

which is so useful in resolving psychological problems, is 
altogether unavailing" (p. 205). 

We have not here, as in many cases cited in former places, a 
withdrawal of the vital forces which govern sense-organs 
(whereby they become incapable of perceiving altogether, 
neither is there any anaesthesia of the brain corresponding to 
the object selected), but an isolation of a certain single mental 
modification against the accession of external stimuli (which 
under ordinary circumstances w^ould necessarily excite it into 
consciousness) by the command "you will not perceive 
M. X— ." 

We must not forget that the "subject," on being awakened, is 
not fully awake. He is still, as Mr. Gurney has it, in a trance- 
waking state. The command given during his sleep is now 
in full operation and swallows up, so to say, all opposing exci- 
tations, therefore isolating the mental modifications of M. X — 
completely from being reached by the stimuli of sight, sound, 
etc., which emanate from him, thus preventing his being 
seen, heard or felt by the subject. It is not, as MM. Binet 
and Fe're correctly observe, the result of a particular associa- 
tion, but of a lively post-hypnotic excitation of a- command 
which intercepts the external stimuli from reaching the special 
mental modification of M. X — in the " subject's " mind. (A simi- 
lar phenomenon occurs when we do not see a person enter- 
ing the room, or do not hear him speak to us, while we are 
deeply engaged with an active train of thought.) Neither is 
it a partial anaesthesia of the brain corresponding to the object 
selected, because a full removal of the hypnotic command 
would at once restore the perception of M. X — , that is, the 
external stimuli wdrich emanate from that person would at 
once, by the law of similars, excite into consciousness the 
vestiges of previous excitations by the same person, and the 
special mental modification of M. X — , as it exists in the " sub- 
ject's " mind, would at once be resuscitated — that is, w r ould be 
seen, heard and felt by the " subject" as before. 



rapport between the operator and the subject. 477 

120. Rapport Between the Operator and the 
" Subject." 

We come now to the consideration of a still more obscure 
subject, " the community of sensation between operator and 
'subject,' or transference of sensation without suggestion from 
operator to subject.' " The reality of this community has been 
proved so thoroughly and abundantly by the Committee of 
the S. P. E. on Mesmerism, and by all mesmerizers before and 
since their researches, that it ceases to be virtue to take notice 
any longer of the stupid denials of these phenomena, still 
brought forward in " scientific " works and treatises. These 
are the facts: That a "subject," insensible to any torture 
inflicted upon his own person, will feel the pinching ap- 
plied to any part of the operator's person, and indicate the 
spot; that he will hear the whisper of the operator at a dis- 
tance, although deaf to any one else's voice, and even amid 
the loudest noises made about him; that he will smell and 
taste what the operator smells and tastes ; that he will sense 
what the operator has touched with his hands or only made 
passes over, and that he will respond to the unexpressed will 
of the operator. (Compare Proc, Part III, p. 225, and Part 
IV, pp. 255 and 260.) 

Strange as all this appears at first sight, it is not stranger 
than what we have explained thus far. Why is a "subject" 
insensible to tortures inflicted upon his own person ? It is 
not, as we have already explained, because his nerves of touch 
and feeling are altered or changed, but because the vital forces 
which engender the functions of these nerves and organs are 
so engaged by the influence of the operator that this function 
cannot go on, that is, the nerves or organs cannot respond 
because the psychic forces that cause these functions are 
differently employed. The same is the case when the " sub- 
ject " is deaf to all noises about him. It is not because the 
nerves and organs of hearing are deadened, but it is because 
the vital forces that are the psychic cause of that particular 
functional activity are engaged by the influence of the operator. 

Neither are the olfactory nerves at fault when the strongest 



478 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

and most irritating substances applied to the mucous mem- 
brane of the nose cause no response. Here again the cause 
lies in the withdrawal, b} r the operator's influence, of the vital 
forces which qualify the organs for action. 

But then, why does the "subject," insensible to pains inflicted 
upon his own person, feel pains inflicted upon the operator? 
Why does he hear the slightest whisper of the operator even at 
a distance, although completely deaf to the most " unearthly 
bellowing" around him? Why does he smell and taste what 
the operator smells or tastes, although the most irritating sub- 
stances applied to his own organs of smell or taste have no 
effect upon him? 

This we can only comprehend by considering the fact 
that the primitive forces of seeing, hearing, smelling, tast- 
ing and feeling may be acted upon by other means than 
the material organs of these senses. In 114 we have shown 
that a transference of thought is possible by psychic mobile 
elements alone, without a communication through the usual 
means of perception. There the "subject" was in a normal 
condition, in the full use of all his sense-organs. In our 
case the "subject" is derpived of the use of his sense-organs, 
because the vital forces which engender their activity are 
subdued by the influence of the operator. This influence, 
or rather effluence, from the operator appears, then, as the 
only means by which the "subject" is capable of responding to 
external stimulation. If we found, in 114, that the means to 
excite the similar mental modifications in a "subject" fully 
awake consisted of mobile elements of the higher primi- 
tive forces partially modified by external stimuli, we must now, 
in the case of mesmerized individuals, look for mobile elements 
of the operator from the sphere of the vital forces; that is, of 
elements which are connected with the " sympathetic " system, 
or of which the sympathetic system is the material expression. 
The sympathetic system has been traced by anatomists from 
both sides of the spine up into the brain and down to the coc- 
cygeal ganglion. The rami communicantes connect it with 
the spinal marrow, and thus a distribution of the sympathetic 
action down to the fingers' ends and the tips of the toes is ex- 
plained, even in its material (anatomical) relation. 



RAPPORT BETWEEN THE OPERATOR AND THE SUBJECT. 479 

This system of vital forces (pervading the entire human 
frame, creating and building all the material forms of which it 
is the psychic prototype, by means of the bioplasts), instilling 
the formed material with its own functional activity, and, on 
the other side, standing in closest communion with the organic 
senses (the special primitive forces of seeing, hearing, touching, 
smelling, etc.), with which it constitutes the soul of man — this 
system of vital forces is thus the mediating link between the 
conscious psychic development, the mind, and the material 
organs, the body. Its forces diffuse on all sides, stimulate or 
withdraw stimulation, not only from psychic modifications 
and material organs of the same subject, but diffuse also from 
an operator over the sympathetic system of a " subject," and 
subdue his vital forces to complete subjection and harmonious or 
sympathetic vibration with that of the operator. Consequently 
the "subject" will perceive no external stimulation of his 
sense-organs, even not painful ones, etc., but will readily respond 
to whatever happens to the operator by means of these con- 
necting elements. Herein consists the rapport between the 
operator and his "subject." It is entirely of a psychic nature. 
The vital forces of the operator so entirely subjugate, by 
their greater energy, the sympathetic system, i. e., the vital 
forces of the " subject," that the first regulate the activity of 
the latter, and thus establish a connecting link which fastens 
the "subject" to the operator, but not the operator to the 
"subject." Rapport is, therefore, not reciprocal, but a one- 
sided dependence of the " subject," and for this reason 
alone no one should allow himself to be mesmerized unless 
for a good and noble end, and not for mere play to pass time, 
and under no consideration without the presence of a reliable 
witness. This explanatory digression will enable us to answer 
the questions above stated. 

Why does the " subject " under full influence feel only such 
pain as is inflicted upon the operator ? Because the sensa- 
tion of the operator is immediately transferred by means 
of the connecting link of mobile elements to the correspond- 
ing vital forces of the "subject." Why does he hear the 
slightest whisper of the operator, even at a distance, where 



480 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

normal conditions of the hearing organs would perceive no 
sound ? Again, because the whisper of the operator affects 
immediately, by means of the established link of mobile ele- 
ments, the hearing forces, and not the organs of hearing, of the 
" subject." Why does he smell or taste what the operator 
smells and tastes? Because the sensations of the operator 
immediately excite similar sensations by the same means in 
the corresponding olfactory and gustatory primitive forces, 
without the intermediation of the corresponding organs of the 
" subject." The experiments made by the committee on this 
point are very characteristic. If the operator takes a cer- 
tain substance into the mouth or smells it, the " subject " does 
not alw r ays say positively it is sugar, or salt, or pepper, or 
cologne, etc., but describes it as something sweet, or hot, or 
like this or that, etc., showing clearly that these senses, as 
explained already in 8, are of a low r er order in the capacity 
of forming clear conscious modifications ; and when, as it often 
happened in these experiments, the operator had tasted several 
things in quick succession, the answer came still more con- 
fusedly, it proved that mixed-up and indistinct sensations 
create corresponding undefined sensations in the " subject." 

The "subject" w T ill also sense out of a number of similar 
things those objects which the operator has touched, or over 
which he has made a few passes, or will distinguish at once, by 
tasting or smelling, mesmerized water from other water. In 
these cases we have not so much an immediate excitation of cor- 
responding primitive forces as a rather heightened sensitivity 
of certain senses for stimulations coming from the operator, 
because these stimulations are in greater harmony with the 
" subject's" condition. That the " subject" should respond to the 
unexpressed will of the operator is explainable on the same 
grounds as above stated. The conative modifications of the 
operator immediately excite, by means of the existing link of 
mobile elements, similar conative modifications (volitions), 
which, in the absence of the conscious ego, w T ill surely take the 
ruling power as the most potent modifications then conscious 
in the mind. 

We have thus, by the application of Beneke's New Psychology, 



SOMNAMBULISM. 481 

which is the outgrowth of close observation of mental activities 
and not of general concepts (the meaning of which has always 
been disputed), and which takes for its object the whole man, 
soul and body, as subjected to the same laws — as a system of 
diverse forces united in one grand organism — been able to 
explain these obscure phenomena, or at least to bring them 
nearer to our understanding, than either the old method of 
psychological speculation, or the now fashionable materialistic 
physiology, with all its vivisections, nerve-centres, inhibition, 
cerebration and similar "scientific" phrases, have succeeded 
in doing. But we have not yet finished. 

121. Somnambulism. 

Although this state of the human organism finds an expla- 
nation of many of its phenomena in the foregoing analysis, it 
still presents features that need further consideration. 

The somnambulic state may be induced unintentionally by 
disease, by deep and violent emotions, religious excitement, 
by the influence of vegetable or mineral substances, and, when 
so caused, it is called natural somnambulism. The state may be 
brought about by the intentional influence one person exerts 
upon another in the act of mesmerization, or by the exertion 
of one's own will (Fahnestock's statu volism). Under the latter 
circumstances it is called artificial somnambulism. 

The additional features of the somnambulic state which 
need our attention are the following : 

1. A gradually developing capability of the subject of per- 
ceiving the internal parts of his own body, and sensing what 
will cure disorganized functions and organs. 

2. A perceiving of the functions and organs in other persons, 
and what will cure their morbid conditions. 

3. A perceiving at a distance without the use of the sense- 
organs, and a sensing of what will happen at a future time. 

These several peculiarities we shall now consider separately. 
1. During the induced somnambulic state the patient learns 
gradually to discern the internal parts of his own body. 

Instances of this kind are very numerous in the literature 



482 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

of somnambulism. Kieser observes, in the second volume of 
his Tellurismus, page 162: "The somnambulist discerns first 
only obscurely and indistinctly the objects nearest around 
him. At a higher stage his interior becomes partially or 
wholly, more or less, lighted up and transparent to him, so 
that he is able to point out the position and form of the several 
organs of his body, and sometimes with the greatest accuracy." 

Persons in the somnambulic state perceive at first more or 
less clearly their diseased organs, and describe them more or 
less accurately, but always according to their own capacity 
and knowledge, as any one would describe an object according 
to the amount of knowledge he has of it. 

Matthew Schurr, a boy 13 years old and a patient of Dr. 
Tritschler (Kieser's Archiv, Vol. I, Part I, pp. 133 and 134), 
answers the question: "Are you internally sound?" as fol- 
lows: "My lungs are sound; my heart is somewhat large; 
my liver is sound, that I know surely, although I cannot see it, 
because it is covered by something." "My heart is pale, flesh- 
colored, almost round, but pointed on its low T er portion " (de- 
lineating at the same time with his hand on the chest the 
position of the heart within); "there are two big vessels 
coming near together from the heart in which the blood runs 
from the heart." This is surely no very accurate description 
of the heart, but good enough for an untutored boy. 

P. G. van Ghert's somnambulist, Demoiselle B. (Kieser's 
Archiv, 'Vol. II, Part I, p. 69), says : " Now I see to what my 
stomach is attached. There goes from the stomach, so it 
appears to me, toward the arm (but I cannot see high enough 
yet) a crooked thing. On the lower part of the stomach I see 
a gut which bends upward, and also a number of other intes- 
tines. The meal which I took lies still undigested in my 
stomach." 

This may suffice to show the character of the internal som- 
nambulic " seeing," although a great many similar cases might 
be cited from Kieser's Archiv alone, not to speak of other 
w T orks on somnambulism. The "seeing," or perceiving, of in- 
ternal organs during the somnambulic state, is a fact which 
has been attested by a great number of the best observers, 
their observations being independent of one another, at dif- 
ferent times and upon different subjects. This seeing corre- 
sponds entirely with the knowledge of the "subjects," as the 



SOMNAMBULISM. 483 

above-cited cases clearly show. The ignorant cannot be ex- 
pected to give a scientific description of what they see. When, 
however, the "subject" is an educated physician, we may 
expect also a scientific description. Such a case is recorded by 
Deleuze, in his Histoire Critique, etc., Vol. I, p. 168, where he 
states that a colleague, whom he had mesmerized, during the 
somnambulic state described his disease in correct technical 
terms. 

We have under such circumstances a "seeing" or perceiv- 
ing of objects without the ordinary sense-organs, and without 
the means of ordinary light, that is, without any of the media 
absolutely necessary for seeing in the normal state. We cannot 
conceive how this is possible, and yet the facts show that it is. 

In order to gain an approximate insight into this obscure 
process, we must first remind the reader of the fact that per- 
ceiving may take place without any of the ordinary means of 
communication, solely by means of primitive forces and par- 
tially modified primitive forces, as shown in 114 on mind- 
reading. But this explanation does not wholly cover 
such cases. It shows merely that a psychic discernment is 
possible by other means than the ordinary organs of senses 
and their ordinary stimulations. In the somnambulic state 
the activity of the sight organs is totally subdued, inopera- 
tive, and to call such perceptions " seeing " is not exactly 
an appropriate term ; it is merely a becoming conscious of 
certain organs, especially diseased organs, and their conditions 
within the body. This is a process of not infrequent occur- 
rence even in normal life. One who is accustomed to self- 
observation will readily discern any functional disorder that 
takes place in any part of his body. Though we do not, as a 
rule, mind the normal workings of our physical frame, any dis- 
order therein makes itself quickly felt by the corresponding 
percipient forces — the vital senses. Although we do not call 
this a " seeing " of what goes on within us, it is nevertheless a 
consciousness of the process, and sometimes a pretty marked 
and painful one. If we now add to this fact that in the mes- 
meric (and consequently still more in the deeper somnambulic) 
state the higher senses are completely subdued, and the vital 



484 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

senses correspondingly exalted, it is not difficult to see that 
the perceptions by these lower senses must likewise be exalted, 
approaching in acuteness and power the normal activity of the 
higher senses, with which they form a whole — the human soul. 
The perceptions by these lower senses then becomes " seeing," 
comparatively speaking; that is, a becoming conscious of cer- 
tain states of the organs within the body, as if they were seen, 
which knowledge will necessarily correspond to the knowledge 
the " subject " has acquired in his normal life, but which may 
be cultivated gradually by continued exercise to higher con- 
cepts, which, in the course of time, may become very clear con- 
scious mental modifications. Even here, then, we need not go 
beyond the natural capabilities of the human soul. What 
appears a wonder at first sight, is nothing but a natural 
development of man's primitive psychic forces. 

A very remarkable case in point, showing to what high 
degree of conscious development a human being may be raised 
by the cultivation of the senses of touch, smell and taste alone, 
is that of Laura Dewy Bridgeman, of Boston, w T ho can neither 
see, speak nor hear, and to whom a reception was given in 
commemoration of the fiftieth anniversary of her entrance 
into the Perkin's Institution for the Blind, in South Boston. 
" She entered this institution when she was eight years old. 
Dr. Samuel G. Howe, now dead, took charge of the girl. She 
was taught to write, read, spell, knit, and to converse with her 
teachers and those who knew the language of the blind and 
the mute. She is now 7 as proficient in the ordinary branches 
of learning as the average person not handicapped by the loss 
of actual powders." 

The same holds good as to the sensing of what will cure the 
disorganized functions and organs of the somnambulist. We 
touched upon this subject when we spoke of dreams (103) and 
instinct (107). 

It cannot be my purpose to criticise here all the various 
prescriptions which somnambulists have made for themselves ; 
neither can I scan all those which appear to be merely a reflex 
from the attending magnetizer's mind. There is no doubt 
that many of these prescriptions were the consequence of a 



SOMNAMBULISM. 485 

genuine want and craving of the organism for certain drugs, 
and, on the other hand, that many of the same were so irra- 
tional that only superstition, existing in the higher knowledge 
of the " subject," could yield to them. When a mesmerist bled 
his "subject" nearly to death, because a mesmerized patient 
ordered it, the consequences of which she could scarcely over- 
come in the following two years, it shows merely the utter want 
of sound judgment on the part of the mesmerizer and the 
erroneous impressions the " subject" had of her own state. 
Kieser remarks, in a note to a case in which the "subject" 
prescribed enormous doses of a certain drug for amenorrhcea, 
from which notion, however, he successfully dissuaded his 
patient: " That there are cases in which even the determined 
claims of the 'subject' must not be heeded, and where the 
intelligent judgment of the waking mesmerist should regu- 
late the views of the sleeping ' subject.' Even the highest 
degree of clairvoyant somnambulism is inferior to the clear- 
sighted waking man, and should be governed by him." 
(Archiv fur den thierischen Magnetismus, Vol. XI, Part I, 
p. 30). 

But how is it possible that persons in the somnambulic state 
can have any knowledge of remedies that will cure them, or 
at least will have a beneficial influence upon the morbid state 
of their systems ? We have stated before how this may occur. 
During the somnambulic state the activity of the vital senses 
is so much heightened, and so entirely undisturbed by the 
action of the higher senses, that the peculiar kind of influence 
which a certain diseased organ is in need of, to bring about a 
healthful stimulation, becomes conscious, or is felt. It is the 
same as when we crave a particular food or drink, or turn in 
disgust from particular viands in the summer season, or in the 
winter, or under other conditions. The vital forces are the 
tale-tellers (see 107, on instinct), because they are so nearly 
related to, and therefore so readily influenced by, external na- 
ture (telluric and physical changes), that a discernment of these 
changes is as natural to them as a discernment of the changes 
of light, color, or figure to the eye, or a change of sound to the 
ear, etc. This discernment of the suitableness or disagreement 



4SG OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

of certain things is the resulting feeling, that is, the becoming 
conscious of the differences of these influences during their 
actions upon the vital forces (47). This at once gives us the 
clue as to why somnambulists desire certain things and abhor 
others; why they crave (prescribe) certain drugs and for- 
bid others; why they regulate their diet, and know what is 
good for them and what is not. Nevertheless, it would be folly 
to rely on such dictations. These feelings may indicate, in cer- 
tain instances, unmistakably the true remedy, while in others 
they may be very far from the mark. The entire literature on 
somnambulism teaches this fact. How often do somnambu- 
lists change the remedy, its dose and combination with other 
drugs ! Although this may in a great measure depend upon the 
influence of the mesmerizer, it nevertheless shows that their 
feelings, as regards their own ailments and the means to cure 
them, are often quite hazy and confused. This is not to be 
w T ondered at. The vital forces cannot attain to greater clear- 
ness than the higher senses, and as the feelings, even of the lat- 
ter, are often obscure, we must not expect perspicuity and per- 
fect clearness in feelings arising from processes of the vital 
senses. Thus the whole capability of the somnambulist of 
prescribing for himself, and sometimes successfully, amounts to 
nothing more or less than to the feelings in the domain of the 
vital senses, by which the need and suitableness of certain agents 
for the then present state become conscious. 

2. During the somnambulic state the patient learns gradually to 
discern the internal organs and their functions in other persons, and 
often knows what will cure their ailments. 

This is obviously a different feature from the foregoing. It 
is, it seems, a becoming conscious of things at a distance, out- 
side of the " subject." The " subject " gradually recognizes in 
this way, first the magnetizer, and later also persons who enter 
into communication with the " subject," either directly (by 
contact) or through the intervention of the magnetizer. In 
either case a psychic connection is established between the 
" subject" and such person, which consists of an immediate 
transference of the vital forces from the person concerned to 
the " subject," and which we have described in 119 as rap- 



SOMNAMBULISM. 487 

port between the two. In this way any morbid action, in fact, 
any prominent action of any organ of the person concerned, is 
transferred immediately to the corresponding vital forces of the 
" subject," and is there felt as such action. In other words, a 
prominent action (healthy or morbid) of certain vital forces 
in the other person rouses corresponding modifications of vital 
forces of the "subject" into consciousness, wdiich form the 
basis upon which this new excitation is measured or felt as 
either agreeable or disagreeable, and thus a knowing, or "see- 
ing," arises of certain organs and their functions existing in 
the person concerned. Whether this " feeling," or " seeing," 
or " knowing " be clear or obscure, depends partly upon the 
frequency and thoroughness with which such processes are re- 
peated, and partly upon the sensitivity of the " subject's" vital 
forces. Mrs. Hauff could, even during her normal state 
(which, it appears, was scarcely ever a normal one), sense at 
once the ailments of persons who came in contact with her. 
A number of such instances are reported by Justinus Kerner, 
in his work : Die Seherin von Prevorst, p. 160, etc. The seeing 
of the " subject " into another person during trance is, there- 
fore, not an actual " seeing," but & feeling of another's state and 
condition, engendered by its transference to the correspond- 
ing modifications of the " subject's " own development, upon 
which it is measured or felt with greater or less clearness of 
consciousness. 

If now, with this internal perception or feeling of another's 
state, there associates a longing for, or an aversion to certain 
things which either would benefit or aggravate that state, we 
see at once that it is possible for the "subject" to prescribe for 
the morbid state of another person. It is true these prescrip- 
tions sometimes sound very oddly and savor strongly of super- 
stition, as in the case of Mrs. HaufF, who prescribed that the 
Countess von Maldeghem carry around her neck an amulet 
made of three times three laurel leaves, and to take three 
times daily three tablespoonfuls of St. John's wort tea, which 
w r as to be made of five flowers and nine teaspoonfuls of water, 
etc. (See Seherin von Prevorst, p. 167). The strangeness of 
the prescription, however, does not of itself invalidate the fact 



488 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

that the prescription had its effect, as the Countess was cured 
after years of suffering. It merely shows that the personal 
peculiarities of the "subject" will always tinge and sometimes 
disfigure the natural impression of the wants which the dis- 
order of another person engenders in the sensitive "subject." 

3. During the induced somnambulic state the " subject " learns 
gradually to discern things at a distance without the use of Jiis 
ordinary sense-organs. 

Instances of this kind are likewise very numerous. The 
" Facts in Mesmerism, with Reasons for a Dispassionate In- 
quiry Into It," by the Rev. Chauncey Hare Townshend, M.A. 
late of Trinity Hall, Cambridge, 1839, are, by the way, an 
effort involving much deeper research into the nature of mes- 
merism than Braid's mechanical explanation of the same, 
made public some two or three years later. From this book 
(reprint, New York : Harper & Brothers, 1841) I shall quote 
the following: 

" E. A — , a boy, aged fifteen, manifested all the characteristic 
symptoms of mesmeric sleep-waking; was able to move about 
with tolerable ease, and began to display extraordinary 
phenomena of vision. There was exactly the progress in 
their development- which attends the education of a new 
faculty. At first the patient could only descry the larger 
objects around him, or such as most interested him, or to 
which he was the most habituated. Thus, though able, in the 
early stages of his sleep-waking, to discriminate between the 
persons present in an apartment, and though testifying, in all 
that related to music, great powers of sight (for from the first 
he could, while mesmerized, write out music with precision), 
yet for a long period he found considerable difficulty in read- 
ing from a book, always complained of the smallness of the 
type, and could rarely be prevailed upon to look at more than 
two or three words at a time. Subsequently, his eyes being 
always firmly shut, he was able to read any number of words 
in the minutest type with perfect ease, and to discern small 
and large objects near or distant with exactly the same facility 
of vision which is possessed by a waking person. This power 
of perception, analogous to sight, seemed principally to reside 
in the forehead. Whatever objects he took up to examine he 
immediately carried to the forehead. Once, in the presence of 
Dr. Foissac, at Paris, the boy being given a set of eyeglasses 
(which he had never seen when awake) of eight different 



SOMNAMBULISM. 489 

colors, shut up in a tortoise-shell case, he unfolded them, and 
applying one at hazard to his forehead and without pressing 
it down to the level of his eyes, exclaimed, ' Everything ap- 
pears blue to me !' at the same time, boy-like, imitating the 
gestures of a Parisian dandy, and observing that he should 
like to show off his pretty lorgnette in the street. The glass 
which he had accidentally chosen was, in fact, blue. Subse- 
quently he, at various times, named the principal tints of the 
eight glasses correctly when presented to his forehead in any 
order. The same result took place when his eyes were band- 
aged. It was, however, remarkable that a powerful magni- 
fying glass placed before his forehead was not perceived by 
him to enlarge objects, though he read in a book through the 
glass with perfect ease. 

" Though the power of vision was greatest in the forehead, 
yet at times, and especially when he was excited, and not in 
any way called upon to exhibit (for such requisitions often 
seemed to fetter his faculties), he seemed to see on every side 
of him, as if his head were one organ of visual perception. 
This is no exaggeration, as the following instance will show: 
He was once sitting on a sofa, in the mesmeric state, when a 
gentleman, with whom he was well acquainted, came behind 
the sofa and made all kinds of antics. On this the sleep-waker 
exclaimed: ' Oh, Mr. D — ! Do not suppose I cannot see you. 
You are now doing so and so' (describing all Mr. D — 's gest- 
ures). ' You have now taken a paper-cutter into your hand, 
and now a knife. Indeed, you had better go away and not 
make yourself so ridiculous.' Another time he was sitting 
at a table, writing music, with his back to the door, when a 
servant entered the apartment: 'Oh, Mademoiselle L — , is 
that you?' he said. ' How quietly you stand there with your 
arms folded.' He was quite correct in all he said. Directly 
after this I took up a bottle from a table behind the patient, 
and held it up to the back of his head, asking him if he knew 
what I held. He instantly replied : 'A bottle, to be sure'" 
(pp.1 65-167). 

" The same youth, who, on his father's testimony had, in 
natural sleep-waking, seemed to perceive objects in total dark- 
ness, was now put to the test, whether in mesmeric sleep- 
waking he would manifest a similar phenomenon of sensa- 
tion." The Rev. Mr. Townshend procured, therefore, a closet, 
perfectly dark, in which the mesmerized boy distinguished 
and named correctly cards which were given to him. The 
author continues : " This peculiar development of vision was, 
like the other faculties of the sleep-waker, capable of improve- 

32 



490 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

ment through exercise. At first he seemed unable to read in 
the dark. Then, like a person learning the alphabet, he came 
to distinguish large single letters which I had printed for him 
on a card, and at length he could make out whole sentences of 
even small print. While thus engaged in deciphering letters 
or in ascertaining cards, the patient always held one of my 
hands, or sometimes laid it on his brow, affirming that it in- 
creased his clairvoyance. He would also beg me to breathe 
upon the objects which he desired to see. He used to declare 
that the more complete the darkness was the better he could 
exercise his new mode of perception, asserting that when in 
the dark he did not come to the knowledge of objects in the 
same manner as when he was in the light: ' Quand je suis 
dans Vobscurite,' he said, 'il y a lumiere qui sort de mon cerveau, 
et qui tappe juste ment surVobjet ; tandis que, dans la lumiere, Vim- 
pression monte depuis Vobjetjusqu'a mon cerveau.' Often when 
I could not see a ray of light, he used to complain that the 
closet was not dark enough ; and, in order to thicken the obscu- 
rity, he-would wrap his head up in a dressing-gown that hung 
in the closet. At other times he would thrust his head into 
the remotest corner of the press. His perception of colors, 
when exercised in obscurity, sustained but little alteration. 
He has named correctly the different tints of a set of colored 
glasses. It was, however, worthy of remark, that he was apt 
to mistake the harmonic colors green and red, not only when 
he was in the dark, but when his eyes were bandaged " (p. 
174, etc.). 

To this belongs also the well-authenticated case of the boy 
Anton Arst, who, under the immediate observation of Dr. 
Kieser, gradually developed the faculty of seeing through his 
ringers, knuckles, elbow T s, point of nose, etc. As, however, the 
entire history of this remarkable case is too long for recapitula- 
tion, I can merely direct the attention of the reader to the 
book in which it can be found : Kieser's Archiv, Vol. Ill, 
Part II, p. 50, and Vol. V, Part II, p. 25. 

A remarkable case, proving the ability, in the sleep-waking 
state, of seeing at a distance, is Dr. J. C. Valentin's case, reported 
by him in Kieser's Archiv, Vol. VII, Part III, p. 49, etc. : 

" The patient, Caroline Ramer, a poor girl of Cassel, had been 
suffering with headache for a long time, and Dr. Valentin had 
treated her for 10 months lege artis without success. He there- 
fore concluded to try what mesmerizing would do. After a 
few successful mesraerizations the patient commenced talking 



SOMNAMBULISM. 491 

in her mesmeric sleep of other persons who suffered with 
severe headache like herself. However, as she could not name 
these persons, her sayings could not be verified. On the 14th 
of December, 1818, during a mesmeric sleep, she said : " Just 
now an old man in Breitenbach fell from the loft of a barn, and 
knocked three holes in his head." Breitenbach is four hours' 
walk from Cassel, and she had never been in the place. This 
occurrence was a few days later confirmed by the clergy- 
man in Hof, which is near Breitenbach, and who had made 
inquiries about the case, as perfectly correct, except that the 
man did not receive three, but only one wound from the fall." 

Still more to the point are Dr. Fahnestock's experiments, 
which he made before the year 1843, and which cover not 
only observations on seeing at a distance (clairvoyance), but 
also on perceiving by hearing, smelling, tasting and feeling 
(touch) at a distance. In 1871 he published his experiences 
in book-form under the title "Statuvolism," Chicago : Religio- 
Philosophical Publishing House. His mode of inducing the 
somnambulic state I have described in his own words in 115. 
From this book I shall cite the following cases : 

1. Appertaining to seeing at a distance. " It was agreed, between 
a gentleman and myself, to test clairvoyance at a distance of 
sixty miles, and, when in Philadelphia, he was to visit a cer- 
tain house known to me and there to do certain things, which 
he was to determine upon and note. I, being in Lancaster, 
was to have one of my subjects, who had never been in Phila- 
delphia, say what he was doing there at a certain time. 
He departed from the city on the morning train, and in the 
evening of the same day Miss L — entered this state for the 
twelfth time, and when taken in thought to the appointed 
place, she declared that he was not there ; that the house was 
closed and not occupied. 

" This seemed strange, as it was the time we had set, and I 
could not think that he had forgotten his engagement, nor 
could I tell why the house should be closed. Under these 
circumstances 1 was at a loss to know what I should do ; and, 
although I had the greatest confidence in her powers, having 
sufficiently tested them before, I was not yet prepared to be- 
lieve that she could find him in a city where she had never 
been herself. But as I could lose nothing but the time spent 
in the experiment, I desired her to see whether she could find 
him. After three or four minutes had elapsed she said she 
had found him, and that he was in the third story of a house, 



492 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

in a room alone, containing one bed, several chairs, a bureau, 
and a wash-stand, etc., and that he was standing vp at a covered 
bureau, with a parcel of papers spread before him, and that lie 
was figuring with his pencil. After a few minutes she re- 
marked : 'He is now gathering up his papers; now he is 
going down-stairs; now into the street; now down the street; 
he is now about to enter a large building ; he is speaking to 
some one at the door ; it is Mr. L — , I know him ; he is now 
inside. This must be the theatre,' and, as if speaking to Mr. 
— , she said : ' Take a seat, Mr. — .' She then described the 
house, and said it was crowded. 

" The following is Mr. — 's account, which I received just 
after he had stepped out of the cars, where I had gone to meet 
him upon his return to Lancaster : ' I arrived in the city of 

Philadelphia about the usual hour, and while on Street 

that afternoon, attending to some business, I ascertained that 
the house I intended visiting in the evening, for the purpose of 
performing my part in the experiment, was closed. I there- 
fore, of course, could not go there, but went to my boarding- 
house, and as I thought that I had lost ten dollars in one of 
my transactions that afternoon, I retired to my room, in the 
third story of the house, for the purpose of finding where the 
mistake lay; and at the time appointed for the experiment I 
was standing at a covered bureau, with my papers spread out 
before me, and figuring with my pencil to find out the error. 
Finding all correct, however, I concluded to go to the theatre, 
and gathering up my papers, I went there, met and spoke to 
Mr. L — at the door, and then entered the theatre, which I 
found very crowded. My chamber contained but one bed, a 
bureau, a wash-stand and two or three chairs'" (p. 227, etc.). 

2. Appertaining to hearing at a distance : 

"'Subject,' a lady in the country. She was requested to state 
what they were speaking about in the next house, the doors of 
both being closed, and the distance between them about one 
hundred yards. She said they were speaking about a Mr. M — , 
who lived at a distance. Her statement was ascertained to be 
correct. This experiment was performed at the request of a 
skeptic, on the spur of the moment, without any previous 
arrangement, and therefore puts the possibility of collusion out 
of question " (p. 237). 

3. Appertaining to smelling and tasting at a distance : 

" ' Subject,' Mrs. H — . Having tried quite a number of ex- 
periments at short distances, I was curious to try this lady's 
powers, which are extraordinary, at a greater distance. Con- 
sequently, I obtained three vials, as nearly alike as possible. 



SOMNAMBULISM. 493 

I filled the first with spirits of camphor, the second with essence 
of peppermint, and the third with pure water. All were white 
and colorless. The vials were then corked, securely sealed, 
and thoroughly mixed, so that it was impossible to tell the one 
from the other. In this condition they were given to my wife, 
with instructions that after I left home she (my wife) was to 
place the vials promiscuously upon a certain shelf in my office, 
four or five feet apart, and to leave them in the same position 
until I returned home the next day. The 'subject,' Mrs. H — , 
was being treated for a nervous affection which rendered her 
both blind and lame, but was at this time almost entirely 
restored through somnambulism. My visits to her at this 
time were made every third day, and as I usually remained 
all night on these occasions, we had plenty of time for experi- 
ments during the evening. I arrived there early, and supper 
being over, as usual, she entered the condition, and after some 
experiments in clairvoyance which were very satisfactory, I 
directed her mind to the vials which I had requested my wife 
to place upon the shelf agreed upon. She stated at once that 
she saw them, and described their position. I then directed 
her to cast her mind into the first vial, which stood to the left 
as she faced the shelf, and then to taste and to smell what it 
contained. After she had done so, she stated, the first bottle 
to the left 'tastes and smells like^camphor.' I then remarked 
that I wanted her to be certain in regard to the contents of the 
vials, as the experiment was an important one, and would 
settle a great question in my mind. Upon which she again 
stated that the first vial to the left contained spirits of camphor ; 
the second or middle one, on the right of the first, she examined 
for some time, and then stated that she saw there was something 
in it, but that it had no taste or smell. The third, without any 
hesitation, she declared contained essence of peppermint. 

" Upon my return home the next morning, to my great sur- 
prise I found that her answers were correct, viz. : That the first 
vial to the left contained the spirits of camphor, the second or 
middle one, the water, and the third, to the right, the essence 
of peppermint. 

" The distance between the subject and the vials was about 
seven miles ; and as no one knew how the vials were placed in 
regard to their contents, or whether they had been placed 
there or not, the case was as strong a test of her ability to taste 
and smell at a distance as could be desired (pp. 248 and 249). 

4. Appertaining to feeling (touch) at a distance: 

" Persons in ttiis state have told the quality, size, shape, 
roughness or smoothness, etc., of .articles placed at a distance, 



494 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

or the temperature of solids, liquids, or of the atmosphere in dif- 
ferent rooms or places, independent of any previous knowledge 
on our part, to the perfect satisfaction of those who at different 
times were engaged in the experiments" (p. 252). 

In this series of observations we have two distinct kinds of 
perceiving. Kieser's and Townshend's " subjects" perceived 
objects without the use of their eyes, in a manner that did not 
differ much from sight when effected by means of the sight- 
organs — the eyes — as regards the distance of those objects. 
They could have seen them as well by the use of their natural 
organs, if they had applied them for that purpose. The differ- 
ence from normal seeing consisted in receiving impres- 
sions by other than the ordinary sight-organs, in Mr. Towns- 
hend's "subject," even in the absence of light. In the remain- 
ing cases, however, the objects perceived were at such a distance 
that cognizance of the same by the ordinary sense-organs was 
clearly impossible. 

We will now consider these processes psychologically. If, 
as in the first cases, external stimuli, which ordinarily affect 
the primitive forces of sight only by means of the sight-organs, 
are nevertheless transmitted to the soul without the use of the 
eyes, it follows that there must be other ways through which 
a communication between sight forces and light stimuli can 
be established. In the case of the boy Arst, the seeing process 
was carried on by means of his hands, feet, nose, elbows, etc. 
Townshend's "subject" saw with the front, as w r ell as w T ith the 
back part, of his head. It seems then that the primitive forces 
of sight may, under certain conditions, be excited also by a 
stimulation of nerves which, under ordinary conditions, trans- 
mit only tactual stimuli, the nearest analogues to visual stim- 
ulations. However, Mr. Townshend's "subject" could also dis- 
cern objects in a dark closet, and the darker it was the bet- 
ter; and consequently he perceived without light stimuli, 
which are ordinarily absolutely necessary for the process of 
seeing. The boy himself explains this strange process in the 
following manner. He says : " Quand je suis dans Vobscurite 
il y a lumiere qui sort de mon cerveau, et qui tappe justement sur 
Vobjet; tandis que, dans la lumiere, Vimpression monte depuis 



SOMNAMBULISM. 495 

Vobjet jvsqiCa mon cerveau." There is, then, to his feeling a 
difference between seeing things in the "dark " and seeing 
things in the " light." In the first case light seems to ema- 
nate from his brain, striking exactly upon the object ; in the 
second case the impression rises from the object to the brain. 
This appears to me very characteristic and to the point. For, 
if we bring to mind the many cases of somnambulic persons 
who act in total darkness and with closed eyelids as accurately 
and unerringly as if in the brightest daylight, w T e cannot help 
thinking that there must be means other than ordinary light 
which reveals things and their nature to the somnambulist; 
that, in fact, the psychic forces must be capable of perceiving, 
not only without the ordinary sense organs, but also without 
the ordinary sense stimuli ; or, in other words, that the psychic 
forces, under certain conditions, can act independently of their 
bodily encasement. This peculiarity of the psychic forces 
shows itself still more clearly in Dr. Fahnestock's cases of per- 
ceiving at a distance. When in that state the "subject" finds 
and sees the doctor's friend, who is at the time in Phila- 
delphia, sixty miles from Lancaster, where the experiment 
takes place, and she observes all the friend does ; when another 
knows what persons are talking of in a neighbor's house, with 
closed doors and windows, a hundred yards distant from 
the spot where she hears it ; when another tastes and smells 
the contents of three different bottles, placed by the wife of the 
doctor, during his absence, in different places on a shelf, some 
six miles away from the residence of the " subject," and she 
states, not only the contents of the different bottles, but also the 
location of each on the shelf, etc., we certainly cannot say 
that any of these " subjects " derived information from the 
doctor's mind, because he absolutely did not and could not 
know anything about it; nor can we say that the " subject's" 
souls had left their bodies to see and hear and smell, etc., in 
those distant places for themselves, because there was no sign 
of such departure. They w T ere conversing all the while with 
the doctor. They tell him exactly what they see, hear, etc., at the 
time, and not what they have seen during their absence. This 
is the main point : They relate what they now see, etc., al- 



496 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

though the objects which they perceive are at a distance. 
There is no possibility of explaining these occult processes so 
long as we cling to the materialistic views still tenderly 
fondled and caressed as the highest intellectual achievement 
of our day. It is impossible for a material brain to be at two 
different places at one and the same time ; but it is easy 
enough for psychic (immaterial) forces to perceive at any place, 
no matter how far away, if properly directed to and connected 
by psychical relation ; for there exists no space nor corporeal 
environment for psychic forces. We have spoken of this sub- 
ject under "thought-transference" in 114, and have seen it 
proven by the S. P. R. that psychic forces can and do excite 
mental modifications in the minds of " subjects " independent 
of space. Here we have to deal with the phenomenon that 
" subjects " can and do perceive things and persons at a distance. 
The difference between the two processes is this : In the one 
they appear to he passive, that is, they receive from a distance; 
in the other they appear to be active, that is, they perceive 
at a distance ; yet in both cases it is an action of spaceless 
psychic forces — forces for which there exists no space. 

"And mind," says Beneke in his Meiaphysih, p. 234, "we 
do not deny the objectivity of the beside-one-another, or in 
general of the orderliness in which the world in its spacious 
extension represents itself to us. For inasmuch as to each 
single perception of a thing must be a corresponding thing per 
se (even if the nature of this thing per se be forever an undefin- 
able x for us), there must undoubtedly for the several things 
per se exist a connection, which is reflected as from a mirror, of 
their being together in space. But the question is, whether 
we should consider this being or appearing together of the 
things per se as a spacious extension, or not rather otherwise : 
perhaps as an analogy of the beside-each-other of our concep- 
tions, volitions and feelings, which contains not the least of 
spacious extension." 

(" Man merke wohl," says Beneke in his Metaphysik, p. 234, 
"wir leugnen nicht die Objectivitat des Nebeneinander , so wie 
iiberhaupt der Ordnung, in welcher sich die raumliche Welt 
uns darstellt. Denn da jedem einzelnen, durch die ausseren 
Sinne wahrgenommenen, ein Ding-an-sich entsprechen muss 
(mag auch seine Beschaffenheit fur uns immerhin ein unbe- 
stimmbares x sein), so muss ja unstreitig fiir die mehreren 



SOMNAMBULISM. 497 

Dinge-an-sich ein Zusammenhang stattfmden, welcher in dem 
raumlichen Zusammen abgespiegelt wird. Aber die Frage ist, 
ob wir das Zusammen der Dinge-an-sich als ein raumliches zu 
denken haben, odei* nicht vielmehr in anderer Art: etwa nach 
Analogic des Nebeneinander der Vorstellungen, Bestrebungen, 
Gefuhle, etc., welches ja nicht das mindeste vom Raumlichen 
entha.lt.") 

In all his experiments Dr. Fahnestock directs the mind of 
his "subjects" to the object he wants them to investigate, and, 
when in a proper mood, they soon come into a proper psychic 
relation to the object, and then perceive it wherever it may be. 
This psychic connection between the "subject's" mind and the 
object to be perceived determines the nearness between the two, 
in spite of the material distance that lies between them, and 
explains the possibility of mental perceptions at a distance. 

The necessity for this psychical connection or nearness be- 
tween the " subject's " mind and the object to be perceived has 
also been shown by Dr. Fahnestock's negative successes in 
cases where the " subject " was disinclined, or not in a mood, to 
make the investigation asked for. Her answers would then 
be " evasive, inadvertent and unsatisfactory" (pp. 245-247). Is 
such psychical nearness between a "subject" and a distant 
object conceivable to our common understanding, even if 
deepened by introspection ? Scarcely ! It is because our waking 
state differs entirely from that of the somnambulist. We are, 
when awake, so completely under the influence of external 
stimuli by means of our sense organs (through long habit and 
use), that we cannot divest ourselves of the idea of perceiving 
without the aid of sense organs. Herein lies the foundation 
of our idea of space. This is wholly different with the somnam- 
bulist. His sense organs are shut off from the influence of ex- 
ternal stimuli (116), and what he sees, hears, etc., he perceives 
immediately by his primitive psychic forces, and not through 
his sense organs. For him, therefore, space does not exist. 
All he needs is a direction to the object, which establishes the 
psychic connection and nearness between his primitive psychic 
forces and the object to be investigated. 

4. Appertaining to perceiving what will happen at a future time, 
or what has happened at a time past. This we will examine in 
the following section. 



498 occult phenomena. 

122. Prophecies, Second Sight and Retrospection. 

Predictions are made by almost all persons when in a 
somnambulic state. In most cases, however, they relate to 
the time when the next sleep will occur and how long it will 
last. It is quite probable that there is no particular foresight 
in this. They make up their minds, consciously or uncon- 
sciously, that at a future certain hour they will fall asleep 
again, and remain in that state just so long. This tacit re- 
solve acts in them as effectually as a determination to do a 
certain thing at a given time in any one would. (Compare 
what has been said about suggestions.) A great many other 
predictions regarding the somnambulist's ow T n self may be 
classed in this category, which classification clearly strips 
them of all miraculousness, simply because the fulfillment, 
even to the letter, is simply a necessary consequence of their 
own mind's action, preconceived, knowingly or unknowingly. 
We cannot class these predictions under what has been termed 
'prophecies. 

There is another kind of predictions, the fulfillment of which 
cannot possibly be ascribed to any resolve or influence of the 
"subject." These we are used to call prophecies, divinations, etc. 
Their number is legion, and are known from the most ancient 
times to the present. The scope of this work, however, does 
not allow of the detail of particular cases ; and, although many 
of them may be considered as resting upon an unsafe basis, 
being either faultily observed, or underlaid later with a mean- 
ing they did not originally possess, there are, nevertheless, 
cases so well attested that they cannot be excluded as evi- 
dence of the fact that the human mind, under certain con- 
ditions, is capable of predicting the future, either allegorically 
or positively. Many of such cases have been diligently col- 
lected by Dr. Perty, in his " Die mystischen Erscheinungen 
der menschlichen Natur, Vol. II, pp. 257-312. Many of these 
cases of undoubted prophecy are allied closely to wdiat is popu- 
larly known under the name of "second sight." 

It is a peculiar faculty of certain persons (observed in 
Scotland, some British islands, Westphalia, Switzerland and 



PROPHECIES, SECOND SIGHT AND RETROSPECTION. 499 

many other countries) who are thrown suddenly, without pre- 
monition, wish or will, into a state of mind, in which they have 
visions of certain occurrences which either shortly or after a 
longer period come to pass. This peculiar state of mind, and 
what is seen in it, is always remembered afterward, and the 
objects of its previsions are mostly related to the sphere of 
common life, such as cases of death, funerals, births, marriages, 
war, arrival of friends or acquaintances, and similar social 
events. The persons for whom the prediction is made are 
usually unknown to the seer, and what shall happen to them is 
frequently represented in a symbolic picture. 

In exceptional cases this peculiar gift manifests itself in the 
sense of hearing or smelling. Numerous cases of these dif- 
ferent modes of prescience have been collected by Dr. Perty, in 
his Die mystischen Erscheinungen der menschlichen Natur, Vol. II, 
p. 281, etc. We find also many cases of second sight recorded 
in Kiefer's Archiv, Vol. VIII, Part III, p. 62, etc., Vol. XI, Part 
III, p. 60, etc., and quite recently several cases that happened 
in Westphalia have been critically analyzed and described by 
Dr. jur. L. Kuhlenbeck, in the Sphinx, Vol. IV, pp. 278 and 
361. Indeed, this subject has also been treated of largely in 
English literature, and it would be labor lost if I were to 
attempt here a proof of the reality of these occult phenomena, 
even for the sake of the " innocents " who can't see it. 

These proofs we shall accept as facts, but how can we bring 
them nearer to. our comprehension ? That we are able to form 
a prescience of many events, if we are fully informed of all 
the present conditions and laws by which certain evolutions 
take place, is a daily experience of ordinary conscious life. 
The astronomer, the physicist, the chemist, the physician, the 
psychologist — all can do it more or less accurately. It is 
simply calculating from cause to effect. But this does not fit 
our cases. The seer does not calculate. In most cases he is 
entirely ignorant of the persons and things of whom and of 
which he foresees the future. Yet even here we must assume 
the relation of cause and effect as the necessary basis, for the 
future is the sequence of the present, as the present grew out 
of the past. The future lies in the present, as the present was 



500 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

already a part of the past; so that, indeed, what we call present, 
past and future is in reality one continuous whole. In our 
ordinary state we are as little capable of overlooking this 
whole as an entirety (save in the few exceptions of partial 
piercing into it by calculation and science), as above men- 
tioned, as we can override the spacious extensions around us. 
But the seers are not in an ordinary mental condition. They 
are not seeing or hearing, etc., through the instrumentality of 
their sense organs. Theirs is an immediate perceiving by the 
primitive psychic forces themselves, and, therefore, a perceiv- 
ing which is not dependent either on sense organs or external 
stimuli, or, in other words, on the manner in which things 
appear to the organs of sense. It is a perceiving of the things 
as they are, of the things " an sick ;" and how far this may dis- 
robe them of what we call " time," we, in our ordinary conscious 
state, have no means of estimating. Nevertheless, the possi- 
bility of such previsions, upon the basis of cause and effect, is 
clearly probable in many cases. When, for instance, as recorded 
in Moritz's Magazin, Vol. II, Part I, p. 16, a reputable man ob- 
serves the face of a person apparently healthy, yet already 
striken by death, as appearing as though that person had been 
laying for days in his grave, it is surely a deeper insight into 
that person's real condition than an ordinary conscious and 
searching examination of even an expert would perhaps 
have been able to accomplish. A woman in Bommel, in 
Holland, saw the face of a person who soon afterward died, 
surrounded by dark smoke; and the servant of a friend of 
L. v. Voss saw persons who were near their end attended by a 
dark figure that tried to destroy them. (Perty, Vol. II, p. 279.) 
The two last instances are obviously of a symbolic nature, 
showing, nevertheless, the end in its beginning. But there are 
other cases in which the occurrence of future events is so 
clearly detailed and described, with all the attending circum- 
stances, that there must have been a real perception of the 
events days and sometimes weeks before it happened. Even 
here we must assume a connection between cause and effect, 
although a supposition of calculation on the part of the seer 
is entirely out of the question. Such a case we find recorded 



PROPHECIES, SECOND SIGHT AND RETROSPECTION. 501 

in Kieser's Archiv, Vol. XI, Part III, p. 62, etc., where a seer in 
Niebiill predicts that the next funeral would take place in a 
house which he designated, that the bier would stand in such 
and such a place, that such and such people (all named) would 
pass in and out of the house. He told what hymns would be 
sung, who the carriers of the dead, and who the preacher 
would be, and from what text he would preach. The funeral 
procession would come to a halt at a certain place, because 
the second carrier would break his wax candle, which a woman 
would mend again with paper and thread. The preacher, 
having been informed of all this, determined to choose another 
text, in order to avert the fulfillment of the prophecy ; but 
when he entered the pulpit he was suddenly seized with a 
spell of unconsciousness, and, coming to again, was driven 
irresistibly to preach on the text which the seer had named, 
although he had not prepared himself for it. This was surely 
not a seeing by sense-organs, nor a perceiving of external 
stimuli, but clearly a perception by psychic forces of a psychic 
picture of effects which were contained and preformed already 
in the then present causes, and certainly impossible to be 
reached by a calculating process. 

There remains yet to be considered the "seeing" of what has 
passed, and which we may call retrospection. This appears, at first 
sight, more readily comprehensible, for we are able to review 
what has passed whenever we choose, to quite a considerable 
extent, during our normal conscious state; but to a certain 
extent on, for all that has originated in our soul can not be 
reproduced by our wish or will (though under certain condi- 
tions even that which seemed entirely lost can be resuscitated 
into consciousness again, proving that any act of perceiving 
causes a lasting effect, an objective development of the percipi- 
ent primitive forces of the soul), such instances have frequently 
been observed in fevers, and other abnormal states where 
whole systems of knowledge, though in the normal state they 
had faded into absolute oblivion, flashed out again into lumi- 
nous consciousness (6). 

To this belong also those remarkable cases which we read 
of some persons nearly drowned, who, after being resuscitated, 



502 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

declared that when their normal consciousness had left them, 
in an instant, like a flash, their whole lives passed before them, 
even in the minutest details, as if it were a panorama. 

Now, it is true this kind of retrospection belongs to a class 
which we call reproduction of mental modifications, originated 
in the same mind at a former time; but it nevertheless proves 
the endurance in existence of psychic modifications once 
formed and as formed, and the possibility of their re-excita- 
tion into consciousness in their full integrity under certain 
conditions. 

This leads us to the consideration of another kind of retro- 
spection, in which the objects reviewed are not remembrances 
belonging to the events of one's own life, but to those of 
another. The best known instance of this kind is that of 
Zschokke, who relates it himself in his " Selbstschau" 

He says : " It has happened to me sometimes on my first 
meeting with strangers, as I listened silently to their discourse, 
that their former life, with many trifling circumstances there- 
with connected, or frequently some particular scene in that 
life has passed quite involuntarily, and as it were, dreamlike, 
yet perfectly distinct, before me. During this time I usually 
feel so entirely absorbed in the contemplation of the stranger's 
life, that at last I no longer see clearly the stranger's face, 
wherein I undesignedly read, nor distinctly hear the voices of 
the speakers, which before served as a commentary to the text 
of their features. For a long time I held such visions as delu- 
sions of the fancy, and the more so as they showed me even 
the dress and motions of the actors, rooms, furniture and other 
accessories. By way of jest, I once, in a familiar family circle 
at Kirchberg, related the secret history of a seamstress who 
had just left the room and the house. I had never seen her 
before in my life. The people were astonished and laughed, 
but were not to be persuaded that I did not previously know 
that of which I spoke; for what I uttered was the literal truth. 
I, on my part, was not less astonished that my dream-pictures 
were confirmed by the reality. I became more attentive to 
the subject, and when propriety admitted it, I would relate to 
those whose life thus passed before me, the subject of my 
vision, that I might thereby obtain confirmation or refutation 
of it. It was invariably ratified, not without consternation on 
my part." " I can aver, this strange seer-gift was of no use to 
me in a single instance. It manifested itself occasionally 



PROPHECIES, SECOND SIGHT AND RETROSPECTION. 503 

only, and quite independently of any volition, and often in 
relation to persons in whose history I took not the slightest 
interest. Nor am I the only one in possession of this faculty. 
In a journey with two of my sons, I fell in with an old Ty- 
rolese, who traveled about selling lemons and oranges, at the 
inn at Unterhauerstein, in one of the Jura passes. He fixed 
his e} r es for some time upon me, joined in our conversation, ob- 
served that though I did not know him, he knew me, and began 
to describe my acts and deeds, to the no little amusement of my 
children, whom it interested to learn that another possessed 
the same gift as their father. How the old lemon-merchant 
acquired his knowledge he was not able to explain to himself 
nor to me ; but he seemed to attach great importance to his 
hidden wisdom." 

Here again we have a perceiving not of external stimuli 
by means of the ordinary sense organs, but a perceiving of 
psychic data of the past, by means of psychic forces appear- 
ing to Zschokke like a dream-picture, yet perfectly distinct. 
But during this " seeing" he no longer saw clearly the stran- 
ger's face wherein he undesignedly read, nor did he hear any 
longer distinctly the voice of the speaker in whose company 
he was, showing clearly that at such moments his sense organs 
were inactive, giving way to the action of his primitive psychic 
forces, which, without intermediation, alone could review the 
past of another's life as enduring still in psychic vestiges, or 
as psychic objects just as substantial as any so-called material 
object could be, and which, if belonging to ourselves, could 
pass review as reproductions at our bidding, or at times un- 
called and even against our wish. 

The most remarkable instances, however, of such retrospec- 
tions, or views of the past, are found detailed in a book entitled, 
" The Soul of Things; or, Psychometric Researches and Dis- 
coveries," by William and Elizabeth M. F. Denton, Boston, 158 
Washington Street, 1871. According to the statements in that 
book, it appears that impressions are retained by all things of 
their surroundings, which can be read and seen by a sensitive 
person, a "psychometer" even should these things have been 
buried in the earth for thousands of years. The "sensitives" 
were the wife of the experimenter, his sister and a few other 
ladies with 'whom he became acquainted. The process of 



504 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

proceeding is usually this : The " sensitive " takes the object 
to be examined into the hand and presses it on the forehead, 
or keeps it in the hand, at the same time shutting the eyes 
and waiting for the mental impressions that will follow. The 
object is usually taken from a heap of packages all similarly 
wrapped up, so that the " sensitive," as well as the experi- 
menter, may be kept in ignorance of its nature. Out of the 
one hundred and eleven experiments described in the book I 
shall give only the following as a sample : 

(Experiment IV, p. 39). — " I wrapped a number of specimens 
of various kinds in separate papers, and Mrs. Denton took one, 
neither of us knowing anything respecting it. She said : 
' The first thing I see is a volcano, or what I take to be one. 
An elevation of considerable height appears before me, and 
down its side flows a torrent of melted matter, though torrent 
does not convey the idea; it is broad and shallow, and moves 
not rapidly like water, but creeps slowly along. Now I see 
another stream pour over the top of the first, and the whole 
side of the mountain is covered. This second flow moves 
much more rapidly than the first. This specimen must be 
lava.' On examination it proved to be a piece of brick- 
colored lava, picked up on the banks of the Upper Missouri, 
where it is common, having been washed down probably 
from the Rocky Mountain region." 

The incentive Mr. Denton had to make these experiments 
w T as an article he read in Dr. Buchanan's Journal of Man, 
Vol. I, p. 51, in which the latter speaks of his discoveries made 
by experiments with " sensitives " : 

" On reading the statements of Dr. Buchanan," Mr. Denton 
says in his book, p. 35, " I resolved to see what portion of these 
experiments I could verify by my own experiments. My sister, 
Anna Denton Cridge, being highly impressionable, was able, in 
a short time, to read character from letters readily ; and what 
was still more wonderful to us, and at the same time inex- 
plicable, was that at times she saiv and described the ivriters of 
letters she was examining, and their surroundings, telling, at 
times, even the color of hair and eyes correctly." 

" After testing this thoroughly by numerous experiments, 
being intensely interested in geology and paleontology, it 
occurred to me that perhaps something might be done by 
pschometry — the term given by Dr. Buchanan to the power by 
which character was described by contact with persons, or 



PROPHECIES, SECOND SIGHT AND RETROSPECTION. 505 

from letters — in these departments of science. If there could 
be impressed upon a letter the image of the writer and his sur- 
roundings during the brief space of time that the paper was 
subjected to their influence — and this was the conclusion 
I eventually arrived at — why could not rocks receive impres- 
sions of surrounding objects, some of which they have been in 
the immediate neighborhood of for years, and why could they 
not communicate these in a similar manner to sensitive per- 
sons, thus giving us the clew to the conditions of the earth and 
its inhabitants during the vast eras of the past ?" 

" I accordingly commenced, some ten years ago, a series of 
experiments with mineral and fossil specimens and archaeologi- 
cal remains, and was delighted to find that without possessing 
any previous knowledge of the specimen, or even seeing it, the 
history of its time passed before the gaze of the seer like a 
grand panoramic view; sometimes almost with the rapidity of 
lightning, and at other times so slowly and distinctly that it 
could be described as readily as an ordinary scene. The 
specimen to be examined was generally placed upon the fore- 
head and held during the examination ; but this was not abso- 
lutely necessary, some psychometers being able to see when 
holding a specimen in the hand." 

" The result of some of the experiments, made at various 
times, I give in the words of the psychometer at the time. In 
some cases the phraseology has been slightly changed, the idea 
never ; and generally the exact words are given." 

In regard to the very clever observations which Mrs. Denton 
gives of her own " psychometric" state, from page 312 on, I 
shall mention briefly the following : 

" In many respects the sensations of the psychometer, when 
in the presence of any strong light, whether natural or arti- 
ficial, and when vision only is required, one is often compelled 
to wait, not only until the organs become adjusted to the new 
or changed condition, but until the eye has been wholly relieved 
from any sensible impression made by ordinary light, before the 
objects become distinctly visible, or the brain is capable of 
taking cognizance of their peculiarities" (p. 322). 

" The psychometer is able to give more accurate descriptions 
with closed than with open eyes. When the object of the ex- 
periment is not vision, but the exercise of some other sense, 
there may be less necessity for shutting from sight the objects 
by which we are surrounded. Still I find that whatever serves 
to disturb the mind, or in any way to call it from the recogni- 
tion of phenomena for which the experiment is being con- 

33 



506 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

ducted, just so far serves to render it a fruitless effort. In my 
own case, this rule applies to any unhappy condition of the 
mind, whether induced by any outward unpleasant circum- 
stance, or by thoughts having a tendency to produce dissatis- 
faction, or even unrest" (p. 327). 

"There are times when the closed eyes of the psychometer 
cannot see, and yet perhaps the true condition of that with 
which he is in communication is as accurately perceived as if 
the eye took cognizance of all connected with it. In such in- 
stances the impression appears to be made directly upon the 
brain, and when the individual has learned to discriminate 
between these direct impressions and the creations of fancy, 
they may be considered equally as reliable as true vision" 
(p. 329). 

" There is no mesmeric influence needful to induce the re- 
quired degree of sensitiveness of the brain, and of those organs 
which convey these impressions to the brain" (p. 333). 

"The light seen by the psychometer appears to be either 
direct or reflected, or generally diffused, and that it is over- 
powered, dissipated, or rendered imperceptible by the presence 
of ordinary light if strong. Especially is this the case when 
the rays are permitted to fall directly in the face of the psycho- 
meter, unless, as is sometimes the case, he can render himself 
positive to ordinary light, and passive to that under considera- 
tion " (pp. 341 and 342). 

" Usually, in my own case at least, when I hear sounds in 
that state, these sounds are perceived rather than heard. Some- 
times they are as clearly and distinctly to the internal sense of 
hearing as are common sounds to the outward ear ; and there 
have been times when I could not, and cannot yet tell, whether 
they were heard by the external or only by the internal ear, 
so like were they in all respects to sounds produced by out- 
ward, tangible forms. In respect to the inability, in some in- 
stances, to distinguish between recognition by the external 
and recognition by the internal senses, hearing and sight 
stand, I believe, alone. I do not remember that smelling, 
taste, or feeling — though when in the psychometric condition 
they may be as acute as are hearing or sight — have ever so 
closely approached the boundary between these external and 
internal realms as to render it impossible for me to say by 
which they were really addressed " (p. 355). 

It is worth while to read the whole of these interesting state- 
ments regarding the "psychometric" condition. They are 
valuable observations, because Mrs. Denton could speak of 



SECOND SIGHT AND RETROSPECTION. 507 

what she had so frequently experienced herself, and it is rare 
to find sensitives of this kind who can at the same time de- 
scribe and judge their condition as clearly and objectively as 
she does. The cited passages, however, must suffice for our 
purpose. 

We have before us a still stranger phenomenon than that 
by which the past in another's mind is perceived. The psy- 
chometer perceives also what has happened to so-called " mat- 
ter," even centuries ago. How can this be explained? Has 
matter a memory like mind ? Here the question arises again : 
"What is matter?" We have spoken of it several times 
before. We know " matter " ordinarily only as it appears 
to our different senses. We have no insight into its real 
nature, and that may, for all we know, be actually and in 
its way, of a similar kind as are the primitive psychic forces 
of all souls in their way. It would then be feasible to assume 
that every material thing, too, would be a retainer of the im- 
pressions it has received from its surroundings, which again 
would be perceived not by means of the ordinary sense 
organs, but by the immediate action of the primitive psychic 
forces of the "sensitive." For here, too, the " psychometer," 
as is apparent from Mrs. Denton's description, must come first 
into the required condition — a sort of withdrawal of the ordi- 
nary action of mind through the sense organs — before she 
can apprehend these finer traces stored up in material things 
in times past. The light, too, which emanates from and sur- 
rounds these things does not appear like ordinary light, 
although just as clear and bright, and still more distinctly the 
better the ordinary light is excluded from the sense organs. 
It is not a seeing with the eye, but a perceiving with the brain, 
an observation quite similar to that of the boy whom Mr. 
Townshend used to mesmerize. But the brain as brain could 
not see any better than the eyes as eyes, if it were not associ- 
ated and actuated by the primary psychic forces which govern 
the whole material frame — a frame which in turn must be 
related in some way to these immaterial forces. Such corre- 
sponding experiences independently made at different times 
and places cannot be without a meaning. They show the 



508 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

possibility of perceiving not only without the ordinary sense 
organs, but also without the ordinary sense stimuli, proving 
the fact from another side, that so-called material things must 
be capable of affecting or acting upon psychic forces in still 
other ways than they do when they accost the sense organs. 
We come more and more to the conviction that the common 
way of looking at the world as a mere material compound, 
that can be measured and weighed, and that exists only so far 
as we are capable of perceiving it by means of our outward 
senses, is a faulty one, is a view altogether too narrow for the 
comprehension of this wonderful world, with its life phe- 
nomena and mental evolutions. 

We must divest ourselves of these materialistic views if we 
intend at all to penetrate into the occult phenomena pre- 
senting themselves wherever we turn. Even the perceiving 
of the past, invisible to the acutest eyesight, aided by the 
strongest lenses, will then become approximately comprehen- 
sible. The primitive psychic forces are capable of perceiving 
what is their like, the things as they are " an sich," or from 
their psychical side, as immaterial forces acting upon imma- 
terial forces. (Compare 109.) 

123. Psychic Action at a Distance ; Telepathy, Telergy, 
the Double, Apparitions. 

Thus far we have mainly considered " the receiving (or 
perceiving) of impressions at a distance without the normal 
operation of the recognized sense organs" for which psychic 
process the Committee of S. P. It. propose the designation "Tele- 
pathy or Telsesthesia." However, these terms specify only the 
effect of an action, leaving untouched its cause. If something 
is received (seen, heard, felt, etc.), there must be something 
that is received, something by which the impression is made 
— in short, there must be a starting point, as well as a landing 
point. The latter fits well under the designation of telepathy, 
that is, a becoming aware of something that is conveyed or 
has arrived from a distance, but does not indicate nor include 
at all the sender of the message. This distinction should be well 



PSYCHIC ACTION AT A DISTANCE. 509 

borne in mind, otherwise things will become mixed. In Ger- 
man there is a word, " Fernwirkung" w T hich signifies precisely 
an action at a distance, while the word a Fernfuhlen" means a 
sensing at a distance. While, then, the term telepathy correctly 
specifies the German expression " Fernfuhlen," it does not by 
any means indicate the meaning of " Fernwirkung." " Fern- 
wirken" and "Fernfuhlen" are as different as cause and effect; 
and if we use for " Fernfuhlen " the word telepathy, we are still 
in want of a word which expresses " Fernwirkung." Mr. F. W. 
H. Myers speaks of this cause or agency as telergy, in Phan- 
tasms of the Living, Vol. II, p. 283, and we shall accept this 
term for " Fernwirkung," or action at a distance. 

As already observed, we have thus far mainly considered 
the sensing at a distance in regard to space and time, and this 
without the normal operation of the recognized sense organs, 
and without the mediation of the ordinary sense stimuli; still 
even then we frequently had to touch upon the acting at a 
distance, because a sensing is impossible without a preceding 
action. When in thought-transference the mental action of 
the agent excites the similar mental modifications in the 
" subject," when the mesmerizer puts his " subject " into sleep 
from afar off, when Mr. Hansen willed Mr. Ehrenwerth to select 
for him diamond rings in another room and hand them over 
to him, etc., it denotes clearly a psychic action at a distance; and 
such instances of telergy might be multiplied ad infinitum. 

But I wish to mention here a class of phenomena which show 
more markedly psychic action at a distance. 

" One Sunday night last winter, at 1 a.m., I wished strongly 
to communicate the idea of my presence to two friends, who 
resided about three miles from the house where I was staying. 
When I next saw them, a few days afterward, I expressly 
refrained from mentioning my experiment; but in the course 
of conversation one of them said : ' You would not believe 
what a strange night we spent last Sunday,' and then recounted 
that both the friends had believed they saw my figure standing 
in their room. The experience was vivid enough to wake 
them completely, and they both looked at their watches, and 
found it to be exactly 1 o'clock." (Proc. of S. P. R., Vol. I, 
p. 120.) 

" The late pastor Renaud, of Berne, relates the following : 



510 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

In 1826 lived a certain Daniel Kieffer, at Berne, who had con- 
sumption. I used to visit him two or three times every week. 
Once I was prevented from seeing him for several days, when 
a voice like his woke me out of sleep and called me to come to 
him. I stood up, lit the candle, but as it appeared to me rather 
odd to visit a church member about midnight, I laid down 
again. One hour later the same thing happened again, and 
again I fell asleep. At 2 o'clock the same voice called again, 
but urgently and reproachfully. I got up and went to the 
patient. As I knocked softly at his door he cried out : " Please 
walk in, I am calling you these two hours." His nurse had 
left him for twelve hours, and he was very hungry and 
thirsty." (Perty, Vol. II, p. 124.) 

The following case was first published in the "Spiritua- 
listische Blatter? No. 16, Leipzig, April 19th, 1883. It has been 
thoroughly investigated by Dr. Plubbe-Schleiden, editor of the 
Sphynx. I take the following account from the fourth volume 
of the Sphynx, p. 417. " In the summer of 1882 four persons, 
Mr. Zenker, his wife, Mr. Marbach and Miss A. N., were sitting 
at the supper table in the dining-room of Mr. Zenker's house, 
which faced a garden on one side and the street on the other. 
Suddenly all four persons present heard a loud call ' Zenker! 
Zenker ! ' and all recognized it as the voice of Mr. W — z, a 
colleague of Mr. Zenker. Mr. Zenker, being of the impression 
that the call came from the street, hurried to the window to 
invite Mr. W — z to come in. To his astonishment, however, 
there was nobody there. Now Miss N. went to the door to 
find out whether some one had called through the front door, 
but nobody could be seen. They again sat down to the table, 
when in about 1.0 minutes later the same call of the same 
voice, ' Zenker ! Zenker ! ' was heard. ' There he calls again/ 
cried all four simultaneously, ' and the call comes from the 
garden.' This time it was no false alarm, for Mr. W — z stood 
in persona propria on the street, and had come to invite Mr. 
Zenker to a walk. On being asked where he had been a while 
ago, Mr. W — z assured them that he had come directly from 
his house, that he had there taken his supper ten minutes ago, 
and remembered also that he had at that time resolved to call 
on Mr. Zenker, and invite him to a walk." 

Such cases might be cited in great numbers ; but the largest 
contingent is furnished by cases of " apparitions and phantasms 
of the living" These actions at a distance usually take place 
when a person is in articulo mortis, or wdien he is in great 



PSYCHIC ACTION AT A DISTANCE. 511 

danger, or otherwise mentally agitated, and his mind fixed 
upon a distant person. They may produce a life-like image 
of the person, and sometimes present the exact condition in 
which that person is at the moment (apparition), or may pro- 
duce the agent's own voice, calling the absent person, or 
other sounds and noises by which this person is reminded of 
the agent ; or they may evoke a mere general, undefined feeling 
in the percipient, w T hich, nevertheless, calls attention to the 
person from whom it is derived ; and all this may happen 
whether the person to whom the action is addressed be in a 
normally waking state, or in sleep, or in trance. We find all 
these shades of action at a distance largely exemplified in an 
article of the Committee of S. P. R., in Vol. I, p. 116, etc., and 
also in the work, Phantasms of the Living, in two volumes, by 
E. Gurney, F. W. H. Myers and F. Padmore, London, Triib- 
ner & Co. 

Still another series of phenomena are the so-called "double," 
doppelg 'linger, which is likewise a psychic action at a distance. 
We find such cases detailed in Perty's work, Die mystischen Er- 
scheinungen der menschlichen Natur, 2d edition, Vol. II, p. 130, 
etc. ; in an article, Der Doppelgdnger, by Carl du Prel, in the 
Sphynx, Vol. II, p. 1, etc. ; and also in the work, Phantasms of 
the Living, Vol. II, p. 77, etc. 

The term doppelgdnger is especially applied to persons 
who at times are seen in two places simultaneously; that is, 
while their propria persona is in one place an exact counterfeit 
of the same is seen at another place. In its widest sense all 
apparitions, whether visible or audible, may be counted in this 
class; and the first trace of this action of mind upon mind we 
find in the seemingly spontaneous flitting into consciousness 
of an absent person whom one has not seen nor thought of 
for a long time, and who shortly after makes his personal 
appearance. 

This sudden coming into consciousness of an absent person 
who personally turns up soon after, appears to have been 
potentized to an objective apparition in the following case, re- 
lated by Dr. Meier, in Kieser's Archiv, Vol. VI, Part I, p. 35 : 

"A clergyman of unprejudiced mind had a sister living in 



512 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

a distant country, from whom he had not heard anything for 
ten years. Once on an early morning, while lying awake in 
bed, the curtains of his bed parted suddenly, and before him 
stood, with extended arms, his sister, saying: 'Good morning, 
dear brother,' and vanished. He related this occurrence at 
once to his wife, giving even the details of the dress which 
the apparition wore. The conversation about this subject was 
kept up during breakfast, when suddenly the clatter of horses' 
hoofs interrupted their discourse, and the sister, with extended 
arms, rushed into the room, embracing her brother w 7 ith the 
same words of greeting, and in the same attire as he had ob- 
served a few hours before. In the course of conversation 
it became manifest that she, on her journey to visit her brother, 
unbeknown to him, had been detained at a neighboring village, 
several miles distant, by the sudden outbreak of a storm, and 
had felt the greatest anxiety to see him at the time when the 
apparition appeared to him." 

It is not only recorded that the double appears to other per- 
sons, and is seen by them, but there are also cases on record 
where a person sees himself outside of himself. The first trace 
of this peculiar phenomenon we observe occasionally in sick- 
ness, where a patient sees or feels another self lying beside 
himself in bed. Sometimes this feeling of being double is 
limited to one limb only. This, however, does not strictly be- 
long to what we call " doppelganger." It is a morbid sensa- 
tion, one of the subjective symptoms which arises in the vital 
senses from bodily irregularities. As sensations, or psychic 
perceptions, if lively and persistent, may transfer their own 
existence to an existence outside of the body, the hallucination 
of a second self or part of a second self can easily be explained. 
Yet, where this appearance of oneself outside of oneself is also 
perceived by another person, as in the case of a pregnant 
woman who sees her double sitting on a chair, while her little 
girl who is present at the time does the same (Du Prel, in 
Sphynx, on "Der Doppelganger"), we have a more complicated 
case. We must assume either an objective projection of the 
mother's being, or a psychic infection of the child by the 
mother's own hallucination, a psychically transferred halluci- 
nation, or must object to the whole story. Whatever the 
rationale might have been would certainly be difficult to decide 



PSYCHIC ACTION AT A DISTANCE. 513 

now. Du Prel ascribed the cause of the apparition of an ab- 
sent person to the "psyche" itself, which, moved by various 
emotions, directs its thoughts to a distant place and produces 
there, by virtue of its organizing capacity, its own likeness, 
and makes the astral body become visible. (" Die Ursache 
einer solchen Erscheinung ist die Pysche selbst, die, von 
verschiedenen Empfindungen bewegt, ihre Gedanken nach 
entfernten Orten lenkt und vermoge ihrer organisirenden 
Fahigkeit dort ihr Bild erzeugt, den Astralleib sichtbar werden 
lasst." Sphynx, Vol. II, p. 370.) Allan Kardec calls the astral- 
leib "perisprit," Hellenbach calls it " meta-organism." How- 
ever, we have not advanced far enough in our investigations 
on this subject, to be ready for a psychological solution of the 
same, especially if we admit into the scope of the " double " 
apparitions or phantasms of the living as belonging to the class 
of phenomena which are actions of the soul at a distance. Here 
I must again refer to that classical work of Gurney, Myers and 
Pad more, on Phantasms of the Living. 

Mr. Gurney gives us a number of visual cases occurring to a 
single percipient in Vol. II, Chapter XIV, pp. 29-100 ; in 
Chapter XV, pp. 101-132, he brings auditory cases occurring 
to a single percipient ; in Chapter XVI, pp. 133-152, tactile 
cases, and cases affecting more than one of the percipients' 
senses; in Chapter XVII, pp. 153-167, reciprocal cases; and 
in Chapter XVIII, pp. 168-270, collective cases, or phantasms 
which have affected the senses of more than one percipient. 

He naturally refers the solution of these strange occurrences 
to telepathy, and tries to explain the collective cases by 
thought-transference from the one person originally impressed to 
the other person or persons present at the time, " the halluci- 
nation itself being, so to speak, infectious." 

These exceedingly well-selected cases, verified so far as it 
was possible by the independent testimony of all persons con- 
cerned in each particular case, are followed by notes " on a 
suggested mode of psychical interaction " by Mr. F. W. H. 
Myers, M.A., in the same volume, from page 277-316. 

Mr. Myers disapproves of the popular theory that phantasms 
are material ghosts, or " meta-organisms." He agrees with 



514 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

Gurney that phantasms to single persons are best explained 
by thought-transference; but that in collective cases where the 
phantom appears to the several persons present at the time, 
Gurney's theory of a communication of hallucination from the 
one originally affected to the bystanders, does not seem to ex- 
plain all the facts, and "it may be better to fall back upon 
observation of the experimental cases, and note that in them 
the percipient exercises a species of super-normal activity (pp. 
284-286). Such activity, if pushed far, might become first 
telepathic clairvoyance, and then independent clairvoyance 
(pp. 286-287). Clairvoyant perception seems to be exercised in 
inverse ratio to the activity of the normal faculties, and to be 
stimulated by influence from another mind (p. 287). If this be 
so, we have an analogy that throws light on cases in this book 
where a dreaming, or even a waking, percipient becomes con- 
scious of a distant scene (pp. 287—289; ; and, furthermore, our 
cases suggest that, corresponding with clairvoyant perception, 
there may be phantasmogenetic efficacy (p. 289) ; so that all the 
persons present together may be equally likely to discern the 
phantasmal correlate of the dying man's clairvoyant percep- 
tion ; and collective cases will no longer present an unique diffi- 
culty " (pp. 289-290). 

It is delightful to discover occasionally on a lonely path 
footprints that point in the same direction we are going. 
The above attempts at a purely psychological explanation of 
these occult phenomena are, indeed, very gratifying. The 
futility of explaining psychical activities by material processes 
— brain-waves and the like — has at last become so thoroughly 
transparent, that it becomes a positive necessity to seek the 
solution by a different road. To this road we welcome heartily 
two of the most clear-headed and indefatigable investiga- 
tors, Gurney and Myers, as the above extracts clearly show. AVe 
now resume our own track of investigation, one pursued all 
along throughout this work, and we must first set aright 
the meaning of the terms telepathy and telergy, the sensing 
and acting at a distance. It is obvious that, when applied to 
psychical activities, these terms do not cover the case. They 
are merely borrowed from external appearances, are expres- 



PSYCHIC ACTION AT A DISTANCE. 515 

sions derived from sensory perceptions of daily life, but do not 
in any way explain the nature of these mental processes. 
Deeply rooted in the experience of the outward senses, it 
will be a great difficulty for one unaccustomed to the observa- 
tion of psychic life, to dislodge these outward sense opinions 
from their dominant position. They will be unconsciously 
applied to psychic processes, as if psychic forces w r ere of the same 
nature as material forces, and, if thus applied, such opinions 
will certainly obscure the entire subject. We must constantly 
bear in mind that psychic activities never show any movements 
in space. Sensing or acting at a distance, telepathy, as well as 
telergy, are, therefore, expressions which do not at all describe 
the real nature of these mental processes, but merely attribute 
what appears to the outward senses as likely to be applicable 
also to mental activities. It is here that the translation 
misses the sense of the original. The terms telepathy and 
telergy, are not congruous to the mental process which they 
are meant to describe, because their origin lies in perceptions 
of the outer world, and in our discussion we have solely to 
deal with psychic actions. 

This subject has been spoken of fully in the chapter on 
thought-transference (114), and also in the two foregoing 
chapters. I need, therefore, merely apply to the apparitions 
explanations that have been detailed when considering other 
psychic relations. 

To repeat briefly : For psychic forces there exists no space. 
The nearness for psychic operation does not depend on near- 
ness in space, but on the psychic relation and connection between 
the agent's and the percipient's mind. (Compare 121.) 

Is this psychological view borne out by recorded cases ? Let 
us see. 

One important point, which I nowhere find particularly em- 
phasized, is this : That the agent never seems to have any diffi- 
culty in finding the percipient, no matter where the latter may 
be at the time, whether on the street, in a house, near, or 
thousands of miles away, by day or by night, and this without 
the least knowledge of the whereabouts, in many cases, of the 
person he seeks. There is no trace in all the cases of hunting for 



516 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

a locality. It is clearly a spaceless action of mind upon mind, 
as in the case where one mental modification rouses into con- 
sciousness another in the same mind ; or as in the thoroughly 
proved cases of thought-transference, where the agent excites 
the percepts existing in him in the percipient's mind also, by 
means of partially modified primitive forces. (Compare 113.) In 
either case space does not claim consideration, but telepathy as 
well as telergy signify the external or material fact that the two 
persons or bodies are separated in space, yet give no insight 
into the psychic fact that there is no distance in space between 
the two minds. There is a willing, a strong desire and con- 
centration of mind in the agent directed toward the recipient, 
but there is no moving in and through space in search for the 
person ; and the percipient will be the better conditioned to 
sense and perceive this action of the agent, the less he is occupied 
in his normal sensory activity, or as Mr. Myers correctly puts 
it : " Clairvoyant perception seems to be exercised in inverse 
ratio to the activity of the normal faculties, and to be stimulated 
by the influence from another mind" (p. 287). We have 
shown this to hold good not only in thought-transference, and 
in the process of mesmerizing, but also in those singular cases 
of second sight, of reading the past history of another's mind 
(Zschokke), and in sensing the history of material things (Mrs. 
Denton). All this proves clearly that the success of these 
phenomena rests on conditions of the mind, and is entirely inde- 
pendent of space, which is an attribute of the corporeal world. 
We may also take into consideration the simultaneousness of 
the two events — the sending and receiving of the message. 
As far as this could be ascertained in the cases published, 
this could not have been accomplished more speedily, even 
by means of the telegraph (allowing all latest contrivances), 
than in some of the cases which show an immediate action of 
mind on mind. Yet as most of the apparitions could be made 
out only as happening "about the time" when the event of 
"danger," "death," etc., that Caused it, was supposed to have 
taken place (and it can easily be seen how great the difficul- 
ties must be in the way of arriving at an exact account of the 
two occurrences), w T e should not attempt to prove too much 



PSYCHIC ACTION AT A DISTANCE. 517 

from facts that cannot exactly be ascertained. We may, how- 
ever, use this simultaneousness of action and perception, so far 
as it has been ascertained, with full propriety as an auxiliary 
proof of our position that we have in all these phenomena, 
not actions in space, but immediate actions of mind upon 
mind. The so-called " collective" cases, where the phantasm 
is perceived by a whole group of persons present at the time, 
or only by some of them, while one or more of the bystanders 
perceive nothing, can, I believe, be easily explained upon this 
psychological basis. The agent's mind on stimulating one par- 
ticular mind, with whom he is in close psychic connection, into 
a perception of himself, will diffuse this influence readily and 
effectively to all those present in whom he finds a similar sym- 
pathetic connection. Where such relation is wanting, the 
diffusion of mobile elements will not find anything to rouse to 
a corresponding excitation. Such persons will not perceive 
anything of this influence, i. e., of the phantasm. The influ- 
ence may produce in one a visual, in another an auditory, in 
a third a tactual perception, while in a fourth merely an unde- 
fined feeling of a certain influence, all in accordance with the 
disposition which the one or the other has to either of these 
forms of stimulation, which undoubtedly depends on the 
nature of the reciprocal relation between the two, and on the 
sensitivity of the one or the other system of primitive forces. 
Even where an entire stranger to the agent perceives this 
influence of the one or the other kind, we must assume that 
there exists a psychic bond between the two, as without it the 
diffused psychic elements could not find anything to rouse 
into a corresponding excitation. 

The following case of a dream (case 142, p. 381, in Vol. I of 
Phantasms of the Living) is quite remarkable and has some bear- 
ing on this question. " One Monday night, in December, 1836, 
Dr. Young had the following dream, or, as he would prefer to 
call it, revelation. He found himself suddenly at the gate of 
Major N. M.'s avenue, many miles from his home. Close to him 
were a group of persons, one of them a woman with a basket 
on her arm, the rest men, four of whom were tenants of his 
own, while the others were unknown to him. Some of the 
strangers seemed to be murderously assaulting H. W., one of 
his tenants, and the doctor interfered. 



518 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

"I struck violently at the man on my left and then with 
greater violence at the man's face to my right. Finding to 
my surprise that I did not knock him down, I struck again 
and again, with all the violence of a man frenzied at the sight 
of my poor friend's murder. To my great amazement I saw 
that my arms, although visible to my eye, were without sub- 
stance; and the bodies of the men I struck at and my own 
came close together after each blow through the shadowy arms 
I struck with. My blows were delivered with more extreme 
violence than I think I ever exerted; but I became painfully 
convinced of my incompetency. I have no consciousness of 
w T hat happened after this feeling of unsubstantiality came 
upon me. 

" Next morning Dr. Young experienced the stiffness and 
soreness following violent bodily exercise, and was informed 
by his wife that in the course of the night he had much 
alarmed her by striking out again and again with his arms in 
a terrific manner, ' as if fighting for his life.' He in turn in- 
formed her of his dream, and begged her to remember the 
names of those actors in it who were known to him. On the 
morning of the following day, Wednesday, he received a letter 
from his agent, who resided in the town close to the scene of the 
dream, informing him that his tenant, H. W., had been found 
on Tuesday morning at Major N. M.'s gate, speechless and 
apparently dying from a fracture of the skull, and that there 
was no trace of the murderers. That night Dr. Young started 
for the town, and arrived there on Thursday morning. On 
his way to a meeting of magistrates he met the senior magis- 
trate of that part of the country, and requested him to give 
orders for the arrest of the three men whom, besides H. W., 
he had recognized in his dream, and to have them examined 
separately. (Dr. Young has given us in confidence the names 
of these four men, and says that to the time of their deaths 
they never knew the ground of their arrest.) This was at once 
done. The three men gave identical accounts of the occur- 
rence, and all named the woman who was with them. She 
was then arrested, and gave precisely similar testimony. They 
said that between 11 and 12 o'clock on Monday night they 
had been walking homeward together along the road, when 
they were overtaken by three strangers, two of whom savagely 
assaulted H. W., while the other prevented his friends from 
interfering." 

We see here a man, while sleeping quietly in his bed, all at 
once become terribly agitated by a scene which actually 
occurred at that time many miles away. He not only saw all 



PSYCHIC ACTION AT A DISTANCE. 519 

the participants in the action, but also recognized those whom 
he knew — the rest were strangers to him — and engages at once 
with terrible earnestness in a fight for the protection of his 
tenant. His exertions, although most violent, proved fruit- 
less. He observed that the blows he dealt out were dealt by 
arms without substance, and, becoming painfully convinced 
of his incompetency, there remained no further consciousness 
of what happened afterward. His dream had an end. We 
know that sleep is a particularly fit condition for psychic im- 
pressions. In this case the impression came most probably 
from his tenant, as a call for help, to which the doctor re- 
sponded at once, and was thus drawn to the scene of the attack, 
that is, he became clairvoyant, as we say. In other w T ords, his 
primitive sight forces witnessed the scene without the media- 
tion of sensory organs. He was there psychically as really and 
substantially as his body remained in bed corporeally, and, 
without the necessit}^ of assuming a separation of soul and body, 
his psychic actions there were naturally carried out in the 
body here. Had he been capable of affecting those excited 
minds, or rather, if these excited minds had been capable of 
being affected, he would have appeared to them visibly and 
they might even have felt his blows. Psychic forces are not 
confined in and by space. They act wherever and whenever 
they find corresponding psychic forces to be acted upon. This 
apparent action at a distance, though true as far as matter is 
concerned, is, therefore, in reality an immediate action of 
psychic forces upon psychic forces, the nearness of which is 
conditioned by the existing psychic links which connect them, 
and by their sensitivity or capability of being affected, regard- 
less of space, because psychic forces are in their very nature 
wuthout corporeal extension. 

We come now to the consideration of the other question : 
Are phantasms objective or subjective developments f 

Mr. Myers does not believe in material ghosts, and Du Prel 
is inclined to consider them as the astral-body of the soul. 
Both of these opposite views seem to rest on plausible grounds. 
If, as w r e have shown through this entire work, the primitive 
psychic forces constitute the soul, it is difficult to see how they, 



520 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

as immaterial forces, could be converted into material agencies, 
acting like material things upon the sense-organs of a distant 
person. It is much more reasonable to suppose that as psychic 
forces they arouse merely in the percipient the corresponding 
mental modifications which are objectified, that is, transferred 
and felt as an external object, although in truth they are 
merely a vivid excitation in the mind. (Compare chapter on 
Hallucinations, 119.) 

I do not doubt that the majority of apparitions belong in 
this category. But in the vast domain of occult phenomena 
we find cases which are not fully covered by this theory. It 
appears that in certain cases lasting objective changes in 
material things have been produced. I shall merely refer to 
those in which during their occurrence suddenly the light was 
blown out, in some cases repeatedly (Du Prel, " Der Doppel- 
ganger," in Sphynx, Vol. II, p. 91, etc.), that strings or the sound- 
ing-board of musical instruments suddenly broke (Perty, Vol. 
II, p. 121), and that the apparition executed actual writings on 
paper or on a slate. Of these latter I find two cases recorded : 

One evening Mr. v. S. had quietly arrived at home when, 
on lighting the candle, he heard a peculiar noise, and at the 
same time saw a hand rapidly writing on a piece of paper the 
word " Godefroy " and then disappeared. Some time after 
this v. S. received the news that his friend Godefroy had died 
in Canada about the same time (Perty, Vol. II, p. 128). The 
other case is recorded by Dale Owen, in his Footfalls, p. 333, etc., 
under the title " The Rescue," where Mr. Bruce, in midsea, saw 
a stranger sitting at the captain's desk and writing upon the 
slate the words: "Steer to theNor'west." None of the officers 
or crew had been in the cabin. None of them could produce 
a similar handwriting. The captain steered to the nor' west 
and ordered a " look-out aloft." After some time they discovered 
a vessel from Quebec 'bound to Liverpool, with passengers on 
board, entangled in ice and frozen fast. As one of the men 
who had been brought away in the third boat from the wreck 
was ascending the ship's side, Mr. Bruce recognized him as the 
man whom he had seen at the captain's desk, writing on the 
slate. He was made to write the same words over, and it 
proved to be the identical handwriting ; but he knew nothing 
of having written these words before, yet everything on board 
appeared to him quite familiar. The captain of the wreck gave 



PSYCHIC ACTION AT A DISTANCE. 521 

the following account : " This gentleman " (pointing to the 
passenger) " being much exhausted, fell into a heavy sleep, or 
what seemed to be a heavy sleep, some time before noon. After 
an hour or more he awoke and said to me, ' Captain, w T e shall 
be relieved this very day.' When I asked him what reason 
he had for saying so, he replied that he had dreamed that 
he was on board a bark, and that she was coming to our rescue. 
He described her appearance, and, to our utter astonishment, 
w r hen your vessel hove in sight, she corresponded exactly to 
his description of her." 

The passenger being asked whether he did not dream of 
writing on a slate, answered: "No, sir. I have no recollection 
whatever of doing so. I received the impression that the 
bark I saw in my dream was coming to rescue us; but how 
this impression came I cannot tell." 

These and similar cases can absolutely not be arraigned 
under thought-transference, and it is not at all out of place 
when Dr. du Prel takes refuge, for the sake of explanation, in 
the theory of an astral body. The difficulty of this supposi- 
tion, however, lies in the proof of an actual separation of soul 
and body during that state (trance), which is by no means 
proven. The experiments of Dr. Fahnestock above stated, on 
the contrary, seem to disprove it. And then, of what does this 
" Astralleib " consist ? What is it ? 

Is it a mere cover of the soul or spirit ? What could the 
cover do without the soul ? If the soul travels along with it, 
what sustains the body in the mean time ? We become en- 
tangled into all kinds of difficulties, and simply because this 
theory assumes an " Astralleib " which it cannot define, and 
then admits by means of this imaginary thing a spacial dis- 
location of soul and body, which even in the deepest trance 
cannot exist — for separation of soul and body means death — 
and this is all done because the dominant idea of material 
space crowds forward and is unconsciously applied to things 
that are not material, but spaceless entities. 

Yet, there surely must exist reasons why the belief in the 
existence of an "astral body, perisprit or meta-organism " 
should have originated and been so deeply rooted in the 
human mind for ages. I must here refer to what has been 
detailed in 110, and shall repeat what concerns us here: " We 
34 



522 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

/ are forced to the conclusion that back of the protoplasts exists 
a complete, organized system of immaterial forces, which is 
the exact prototype of the material human body. We may 
call it an immaterial body, if that expression is rightly under- 
stood ; or, according to Paul, a spiritual body. It is the human 
soul — that being of which most men have but a shadowy idea, 
because they have never been accustomed to self-observation. 
The soul consists, on the one hand, of that organized system 
of immaterial forces, the vital senses, by which it projects itself 
into the material world. It is composed, therefore, of an imma- 
terial nervous, respiratory, circulatory, generative, muscular, 
bony and cutaneous system ; has eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and 
all the organs in every particular as expressed materially in the 
human body. On the other hand, by its higher immaterial 
forces, the higher senses, it develops into all those conscious 
modifications of which we have been treating in this work as 
cognitions, conations and feelings and all their wonderful 
combinations. " 

It is this nature of the human soul that unconsciously has 
given rise to the assumption of an " astral body," " perisprit," 
or "meta-organism," of which the last undoubtedly best desig- 
nates our subject; for the soul is an organism of psychic forces, 
externalizing itself in the organism of material forces which 
constitute the body. They both stand in the same relation to 
each other as thought and the expression of thought. Now, if 
we apply this psychological view to our present subject, we may 
reason thus : The psychic forces are spaceless, and therefore 
entirely independent of external extension. They act where they 
are, and yet apparently on objects far away in space, because for 
them there exists no space. Theirs is an immediate action 
upon forces, no matter where these forces are stationed in ma- 
terial space; for even material forces should be considered in 
the light of psychic forces (which underlie and regulate all 
forces of the universe), so that the entire visible universe is but 
the expression of a psychic universe ; which may, therefore, be 
alike co-ordinated in its single parts as the several psychic 
forces and their modifications are related and connected among 
themselves. When, now, by strong desires and deep emotions 



PSYCHIC ACTION AT A DISTANCE. 523 

the soul, id est, the entire psychic organism, becomes so in- 
tensely agitated, that the ordinary way of perceiving through 
the normal sense organs is for the time interrupted and an 
independent action of the psychic forces (clairvoyance or 
clairaudience) takes place instead, we can understand, on the 
one hand, why in that state (trance) the body appears almost 
lifeless, or as if in deep sleep; and on the other hand, why this 
psychic activity intensely concentrated upon its object should 
also be capable of effecting objective changes, there being an 
immediate action of forces upon forces, and not, as the com- 
mon view takes for granted, of mind upon matter. (See 110 on 
Soul and Body). Certainly the modus operandi of these occult 
phenomena has yet to be discovered, as in so many other 
purely material processes — catalysis, for instance. Dr. Du Prel 
is certainly right when he says: " Natural science, which still 
refuses to acknowledge mystic phenomena, will soon find itself 
in the same predicament as the Church once found itself. 
Some centuries ago the Church condemned the belief in the 
antipodes with scorn as heretical and absurd. Later she could 
not procure missionaries enough to convert the antipodes, 
the existence of which she had at first peremptorily denied. 
It will be the fate of our natural philosophers that, even 
before this century comes to an end, they will take up these 
occult phenomena, now disavowed, as their special studies, 
and work at them with the assiduity of bees, diving even into 
the hog-leather-bound volumes of the dark ages." (Sphynx, 
Vol. II, p. 379.) I willingly admit that I do not expect this 
kind of investigation to be performed by those who now lead 
the crowd with their materialistic wisdom, but it is certainly 
true that the age of denial, " because they can't see it," is 
rapidly approaching its end. 

The " reality of the phantom" should not be dismissed with 
a contemptuous wave of the hand, " because a ' spirit ' can't 
be seen, even if it existed ;" " because such belief belongs to the 
dark ages, or can arise only in the vulgar and uneducated, and 
is entirely discarded by all science of to-day," etc. Horatio, 
Horatio ! What is accepted as science to-day, may be laughed 
at to-morrow, and what is laughed at to-day, may be acknowl- 



524 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

edged as science to-morrow. What we contend for is this: 
The soul is a system of diverse psychic forces, united into 
one whole organism. These forces are spaceless ; they have 
no corporeal extension, and therefore are not encumbered 
by space. Their action is spaceless and conditioned only 
by psychic relations. Telepathy and telergy are designations 
contradictory to the nature of psychic forces, and signify 
merely the external appearance of their actions as reaching 
and affecting distant bodies in space, without intimating 
their real and immediate action as forces upon forces, w T hich 
is neither facilitated nor encumbered by any apparent, external 
space. 

Now, as the nature of these primitive forces as living forces 
is conative, they not only receive and perceive, but also act and 
externalize themselves, express their own being materially in 
the material world by building gradually in a mysterious way a 
corresponding body, which lasts for a given number of years. 
Why, then, we may ask, should that same soul on the spur of 
the moment not be capable of producing an evanescent external- 
ization of itself by its action upon other forces ? Why should it 
not be capable of tearing a string or breaking the sounding- 
board of a musical instrument, or building an evanescent body 
of its own and then using part of it as an instrument to write ? 
There is no cogent reason for denying this, especially as we know 
so little about the nature of any and all the material forces. Is 
it more wonderful than that the soul builds itself a relatively 
permanent body for the purpose of living and thriving in this 
material world? But the old, old objections confront us again 
and again, which consider the soul either as an unsubstantial 
shadowy nondescript, or assume psychic action to be the result 
of bodily organization. So long as we do not rise above this low 
grade of intelligence and fail to consider the soul what it is, an 
organism of diverse psychic forces, which are as substantial 
and real as any of the coarsest material forces, we shall never 
be in a fit condition to deal with this problem, or be able to 
conceive of the possibility, much less of the reality, either of 
telepathy or telergy, or any other " supra-normal " phenomena. 

This leads us naturally to the consideration of phantasms of 
the dead. 



PHANTASMS OF THE DEAD. — HAUNTED HOUSES. 525 

124. Phantasms of the Dead. — Haunted Houses. 

This subject has been dealt with in the most cautious and 
skeptical spirit by Mrs. H. Sidgwick, in the Proceedings of the 
Society for Psychical Research, Vol. Ill, from page 69, etc. : 

" Mrs. Sidgwick considers the evidence which the society 
has hitherto collected for Phantasms of the Dead (a collection 
of about 370 narratives), including under this term all kinds 
of impressions on human minds which there seems any reason 
to refer to the action, in some way or other, of deceased per- 
sons " (p. 69\ 

" The possible non-ghostly explanations of what pass as 
ghostly phenomena may be conveniently classified with refer- 
ence to the various sorts of error by which the evidence to 
such phenomena is liable to be affected : (1) As hoaxing, (2) 
as exaggeration or inadequate description, (3) illusion, (4) mis- 
taken identity, (5) hallucination " (p. 71). 

" And in testing the value of this testimony we are bound, 
I think, to strain to the utmost all possible suppositions of re- 
cognized causes, before we can regard the narrative in question 
as even tending to prove the operation of this novel agency " 
(p. 70). 

" Under l hoaxing ' Mrs. Sidgwick does not think ' that the 
number of cases in which this explanation is applicable can 
be more than half a dozen.' Under ' unintentional exaggera- 
tion or otherwise seriously defective ' she sets aside about one- 
third of the printed stories. In those that remain we have 
to consider whether any known physical explanations will 
apply even, as I have said, with some straining " (p. 73). 

And thus, after applying all possible non-ghostly explana- 
tions on the following 76 pages upon the stories collected by 
the Society, she comes to the following conclusions: 

" 1. There are a large number of instances recorded of ap- 
pearances of the dead shortly after their death, but generally 
there is nothing by which we can distinguish these from simple 
subjective hallucinations. In a few cases, however, information 
conveyed seems to afford the required test, but these are at 
present too few, I think, for us to feel sure that the coincidence 
may not have been due to chance. 

" 2. There are cases of single appearances at an interval of 
months or years after death, but at present none which we 
have adequate grounds for attributing to the agency of the 
dead. 



526 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

" 3. There are numerous cases of seemingly similar appari- 
tions seen in particular houses, without apparently any possi- 
bility of the similarity being the result of suggestion or ex- 
pectation; but the evidence connecting such haunting with 
any definite dead person is, on the whole, very small; and the 
evidence for the operation of any intelligent agency in the 
haunting, at present absolutely ?u7; and until we can discover 
more about the laws that seem to govern such haunting, we 
are hardly justified in forming any theory as to its cause, ex- 
cept as a provisional hypothesis " (pp. 149 and 150). 

Whatever we may think of the conclusions drawn, it is 
certain that this lady has performed a remarkably good 
work from her standpoint, and we must not haggle with her, 
even where she applies, for the sake of physical explanations, 
"some straining." From her standpoint this is all right and 
proper. However, the task is not to explain psychical phe- 
nomena on a physical basis, which can never be done, not even 
by " straining to the utmost all possible suppositions of recog- 
nized causes," simply because psychic forces are not physical 
or material forces. The difference between the two has been 
explained at the end of 110. In dealing with psychic forces 
we rise into the higher realm of spaceless forces, and it makes 
no difference whether the one or the other of the recorded cases 
may be explained as hoaxing, unintentional exaggeration, 
illusion, mistaken identity, or hallucination; for eventually all 
come down to this point: Who shall decide upon it — the man 
who experiences such an occurrence, or the man who hears or 
reads of it and, according to his mood, throws it into the class 
of the one or the other of possible errors or believes it as a 
truth ? It is impossible that everything could be cooked under 
our own eyes in our own kitchen, and it is equally clear that 
different tastes, wants and habits cannot be satisfied by the 
same fare. We stand here obviously on the subjective side of 
the question. What one might find delicious, palatable, 
refreshing, another might detest ; what for one might be easily 
digestible, for another might work like an emetic. The ques- 
tion is not: Do such occurrences suit accepted notions and 
preconceived ideas by which physical science now believes to 
explain this or that; but, are such occurrences consistent with 



PHANTASMS OF THE DEAD. — HAUNTED HOUSES. 527 

the nature of psychic forces and psychical laws f And here I must 
emphatically assert that they do not run counter to the nature 
of psychic forces, nor to any of the psychical laws we have thus 
far diligently explained throughout this work. The last 
chapter should decide in which direction we should look for a 
solution of this question. So long as we consider psychic forces 
as real substances, as real as any of the material substances, 
there is no valid reason to deny that psychic forces should be 
capable of acting as well as physical forces ; and as psychic 
forces are spaceless, their action cannot be measured by the 
behavior of material forces which, in their very nature, are con- 
fined to the development in the three dimensions of length, 
breadth and depth, neither of which is an attribute of psychic 
forces. Theirs is an immediate action of force upon force, and 
they, in conjunction with matter, acting as higher forces upon 
lower, which they govern, mold and shape, are seen through- 
out the grand living realm of nature. (Compare 109.) Although 
these psychic forces, in their various degrees and kinds, do not 
all develop into self-consciousness as in man (the highest 
psychic product on this earth), yet all act in strict accordance 
with the same psychical laws which govern the highest and 
clearest self-consciousness, so that Mr. Samuel Butler could 
very properly speak in his book on Life and Habit of " con- 
scious and unconscious knowers." 

In the last chapter we have shown that psychical action, 
apparently at great distances, is not only possible, but un- 
doubtedly proven and explained by the unspacious nature of 
the psychic forces. Here we have to extend this action to 
psychic forces no more in organic connection with material 
forces ; and the question narrows down to this point : Can 
psychic forces, when severed from their organic connection 
with material forces, still act in this material world? In other 
words: Can a departed spirit, that is, a psychic organism 
separated from its former material partner, still influence other 
spirits yet organically united with material bodies ? And the 
answer is another question: Why should it not? Because it is 
severed from its organic connection with matter? But matter 
in all its forms is also force (109). Psychic and material forces 



528 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

are, therefore, related in their inner nature, and should not be 
considered as absolutely opposite to each other, but as forces 
which gradate from the highest psychic forces (capable of a 
self-conscious development), down to forces which do not attain 
this self-consciousness, but gradually assume extension in 
space, that is, take on material forms. As such they ordi- 
narily influence psychic forces only when the latter have built 
avenues for their reception in the shape of corresponding sense 
organs. But the psychic forces, as we have seen, do not always 
need these corporeal instruments to perceive material forces. 
Under a supranormal condition, the psychic forces, even while 
in- their organic connection with the material body, may and do 
perceive not only psychic modifications in other subjects, but 
also material states and conditions, without the means of nor- 
mal sensory organs (compare former chapters). It is then an 
immediate, non-spacious becoming aware of a thing " an sich" 
If this can take place in a condition where psychic forces 
are still organically connected with material forces, there re- 
mains no reason to assume that such relation could not exist 
between a psychic organism severed from its organic con- 
nection with a material body, and other psychic organisms 
and material bodies, because the conditions remain, in the 
main, the same. 

We should not trouble ourselves in speculations about 
the place where spirits dwell. There is no place — a space con- 
fined by length, breadth or depth — for psychic forces and 
psychic organisms. Their presence or absence, their nearness 
or distance, cannot be determined by measuring-rods, but de- 
pend entirely on the psychical relation which they bear to other 
forces. These may be spirits in or out of the body, or they may 
be particular localities to which the psychic organisms have 
become attached during their development in earth life. Any 
locality may become a part of their psychic life, and the more 
so the more deeply this connection is grounded on lifelong 
habits or strong passions, which keep the connection in con- 
stant nearness to consciousness, or, in other w r ords, fasten the 
mind to a particular place. Why ? Do we not observe a 
number of similar states in normal life ? Do not our thoughts 



PHANTASMS OF THE DEAD. — HAUNTED HOUSES. 529 

turn back again and again to the places of our childhood after we 
have been transplanted into other regions and relations of life, 
until the influence of these gradually effaces the first to a cer- 
tain degree? Is not homesickness grounded upon these very 
psychic relations and ties? These and thousand other similar 
experiences we make daily, and think nothing of them because 
they seem so natural. Why natural ? Because they are as 
common as the falling apple, although as little understood as 
the falling of the apple was for ages. Let us now take a little 
step aside from these common occurrences, and think of the 
farmer who, while in church, was seen at the same time at 
home among his cattle, and, becoming alarmed when being 
told so, asked his pastor about it. The latter quietly responded 
to his parishioner : " Why, man, were }^ou not really in your 
thoughts among your cattle while I was preaching?" This 
the man did not deny. We have considered such cases under 
the head of the "double," and given our psychological explana- 
tion of the same in the last chapter. 

The difference between these uncommoner phenomena and 
the natural occurrences during normal life is, that in the latter 
the mobile psychic elements excite into consciousness mental 
modifications of the same psychic organism, while in the un- 
commoner cases this excitation extends to another psychic 
organism by virtue of the same psychical law, the diffusion of 
mobile elements, the attraction of similars, and the unspa- 
cious nature of psychic forces. 

From this point another little step in our investigation brings 
us face to face with the question of the phantasms of the dead, 
and haunted houses. No one can take this step unless he has 
learned to understand that psychic forces are real substances, 
and that the soul of man is an organism of such psychic sub- 
stances, of substances as eternal and indestructible as any of 
the most material kind. Yet this is the point that is not 
understood. We all agree when we talk of material forces 
being indestructible. But when we venture to speak of psychic 
forces as substantial things, or essences, there arises a general 
shaking of heads, a derisive smile, a scientific " we know 
better." Who know better? "We." Who are "We?" "Bodies 



530 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

with big brains, in which there never was found a trace of a 
psychic substance. And that settles the question." 

But we have found in our investigations, that psychic modi- 
fications endure long after the brain-tissue, in the presence of 
which they were formed, has been changed and renewed many 
a time since that event, even in cases where they had never 
been recalled into consciousness for many years. It has been 
proved that by mere psychic influence certain mental modi- 
fications may be excited into consciousness (thought-trans- 
ference) without the usual means of communication; and it 
has been shown that a sensing, as well as actions, at great 
distances are facts which material brain-waves or any other 
material contrivances will never explain. Consequently we do 
not lay much stress upon the assumptions of these learned 
bodies with big brains minus souls; and contend, as we have 
done throughout this work, that the human soul is an organism 
of diverse 'psychic forces, which are as substantial as any of the 
material forces that make up the body and the external world. 

This admitted, our path is clear of obstacles. The reality of 
phantasms of the living cannot be doubted any longer after the 
great and careful labor bestowed upon this subject by Messrs. 
Gurney, Myers and Padmore. These phantasms are clearly 
actions of a purely psychic nature, of one psychic organism 
upon another, and usually take place, as said before, "when a 
person is in articulo mortis, or when he is in great danger, or 
otherwise mentally agitated, and his mind is fixed upon a 
distant person," etc. 

What, now, is the difference between such psychic action of 
a soul at the point of leaving the body, and the action of a 
soul that has left the body ? It is this : In the first case the 
soul is still in connection with the body, in the other not. 
But what has the body to do with that action ? As body it can- 
not act at a distance, so we must consider it entirely as the work 
of the soul ; and as the soul is a substantial psychic organism^ 
it must surely be able to do the same thing after it has severed 
from a body which had nothing to do with the action while 
still united with the soul. The substantiality of the soul en- 
sures its continuance, and, consequently, the possibility of the 



SPIRITUALISTIC PHENOMENA. 531 

same activity after its separation from the body. The soul 
after leaving the body, to repeat it again, is still the same 
psychic organism which it was in the body, and there is no 
reason to assume that its activity and capability should not 
go on all the same, provided its desire to influence another 
psychic organism still in the body is bent to do it, or a partic- 
ular locality is rooted deep enough in its psychical composition, 
that it is kept in constant nearness to consciousness, like a fixed 
idea. These states of departed spirits would explain the phe- 
nomena of the phantasms of the dead as well as of haunted 
houses. For whether these noises, apparitions, etc., are created 
in the mind of the observer only (which they probably are in 
many cases, because on examination the most terrible noises 
have never been found to have left any traces of objective effects 
in the localities where they were heard ; or whether they consist 
of genuine objective effects, like throwing of stones, etc.), it 
makes no difference as to the cause. The creation of noises or 
apparitions within the mind of another person, or persons, re- 
quires no less an influence ab extra, which excites these mental 
modifications before they can be objectified by the mind (see 
Hallucinations), than objective changes in material things 
require an adequate influence upon the material forces con- 
stituting these things. The one thing necessary in the first case 
is a fit condition of the recipient to be acted upon ; a certain 
sensitivity for psychic influences, without which, as we have 
seen, no effect can be produced. This explains the fact that a 
number of people live and die without ever having had a 
single apparition during their whole life. The other case, 
however, the production of genuine objective effects in the 
material things around us, seems to require still other con- 
ditions under which these phenomena can come to pass ; and 
this leads us to the last chapter of our inquiries into the occult 
phenomena of psychic life. 

125. Spiritualistic Phenomena. 

It is characteristic of these phenomena that they usually occur 
only when there is a person present who mediates, as it were, 



532 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

between spirit and man. Such a medium (man, woman or 
child) is thought to be used as a means or instrument in the 
hands of disembodied spirits for communication with the 
corporeal world. There are millions of people who believe in 
the reality of such communications, and other millions who 
<4o not. But a mere belief either way does not prove the truth 
or falsity of either view. We must have something more than 
belief. We must inquire further. 

Since 1848, more regular methods of investigation into these 
alleged communications than before have been introduced, 
although traces and insular eruptions of similar phenomena 
have been observed in all ages and among all kinds of people 
and races. The novelty of the present development consists 
in the newly gained experience, that these phenomena occur 
in the presence of certain persons or media. This discovery is 
undoubtedly of great value, and is of especial service in a 
methodical research into the nature of these phenomena. It 
enables us to bring the phenomena within the reach of repeated 
observations. However, this seeming advantage is, by virtue 
of its own peculiarity, fraught with great perplexities and un- 
certainties. The medium is a new element added, which like- 
wise has to be taken into account, so that, indeed, it does not 
really simplify, but rather multiplies, the difficulties by which 
we are surrounded. Frequently we will be at sea when we 
come to decide what part, if any, of the resulting phenomena 
should be considered as a natural psychic result of the medium's 
own peculiar condition, or the medium's fraudulent manceuver- 
ing, or as the result of an influence foreign to the medium, and 
if foreign, if an influence emanating from the persons around 
the medium, or from an independent spiritual existence. 
These possibilities we will consider separately. 

1. Phenomena which may be the natural result of the medium's 
own peculiar condition. 

Suppose a medium be endowed, like Zschokke for instance, 
with the peculiar gift of perceiving events of the past or 
present in another person's mind as clearly as though these 
events passed before his eyes as in a panorama, he would not 
need special spirits to do the perceiving work for him. He 



SPIRITUALISTIC PHENOMENA. 533 

would simply perceive the psychic modifications existing in 
another mind by the direct action of his own psychic forces, 
without the intermediation of corporeal sense-organs, or the 
need of disembodied spirits. This possible peculiarity of the 
human soul alone would, indeed, do away with a large class of 
so-called spiritualistic phenomena, so far as they are meant to 
prove the interaction of departed spirits. This is also in con- 
formity with the expressions used by an honest medium thus 
endowed, when he says : I see a person (spirit) that looks thus 
and so, and hear him say thus and so (that person may be 
alive or dead). He then frequently gives a more or less correct 
description of that person or spirit, because he actually sees 
and hears what he describes, and exactly as it exists in more 
or less perfect vestiges in the mind of the inquirer. It is not even 
necessary to assume that the inquirer should think of such a per- 
son at the time; for all that exists in the form of vestiges in the 
mind of the inquirer may be perceived during the trance- 
state by the immediate action of the medium's freed primitive 
psychic forces. 

If we now run over the vast array of so-called test cases, in 
which the trance-mediums name and describe relatives, 
friends, acquaintances, etc., of the inquirer, we certainly find 
a very large number among them which can be explained by 
ascribing them to this singular gift of some persons (media) 
to be able to perceive in trance (without the use of the sense- 
organs) the psychic modifications which exist as vestiges in 
another person's mind, with whom the medium comes into 
rapport showing clearly the necessity for cautious discrimina- 
tion, when such narratives as proofs of spirit communications 
are considered. 

If, however, the medium would give revelations of which 
there were no vestiges whatever, either in the mind of the in- 
quirer or of the medium, or in the mind of another person 
present, this explanation would fail to be applicable. And 
such cases also exist in considerable numbers dispersed through 
the voluminous literature of Spiritualism. For instance, Judge 
Edmonds relates the following, in his work on Spiritualism : 
" When I was absent last winter in Central America, my 



534 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

friends in town (New York) heard of my whereabouts and of 
the state of my health seven times, and on my return, by com- 
paring their information with the entries in my journal, it was 
found to be invariably correct. So in my recent visit to the 
West, my whereabouts and my condition were told by a 
medium in this city while I was traveling on the railroad be- 
tween Cleveland and Toledo " (p. 75). 

Even this, however, does not necessarily imply that 
"spirits" were the intercarriers between Judge Edmonds and 
his friends. A medium sufficiently clairvoyant could do it 
precisely as well (compare the experiments of Dr. Fahnestock 
in 120), for the reason that there exists no space for psychic 
forces, and that the nearness or distance between, mind and 
mind consists in the degree of their psychic relation. 

We may go still further and even say, that a revelation which 
is not included in, and may be even contrary to, the normal 
every-day consciousness of the medium and inquirer, does 
not necessarily prove the interaction of " spirits," because the 
" secondary " consciousness of a medium may be so predomi- 
nantly aroused, that it reveals things which are absolutely out 
of the reach of normal excitation, and opposed to the views of 
normal consciousness. We can see this in many cases of som- 
nambulists, who flatly contradict in their waking state what 
they have ordered or said in their trance state, and vice versa. 
We can find examples of this kind in hypnotized persons, and 
the Rev. Mr. Newnham shows the same by his experiments 
with his wife in planchette-writing, which Mr. F. W. H. Myers 
has so ably elucidated in his articles on " Automatic Writing " 
(Proceedings S. P. R, Vol. II, p. 277, etc., and Vol. Ill, p. 1, etc.) 

Thus far we have considered certain gifts and abilities with 
which a medium may possibly be endowed, and by reason of 
which gifts phenomena, may be produced which appear very 
much like spirit-communications. In these transactions there 
is no fraud on the part of the media. They themselves believe 
what happens during their supernormal state, because what 
they describe they actually see and hear by means of their 
primitive psychic forces, without the intermediation of their 
normal sense-organs. Fraud it would be if they simulated 



SPIRITUALISTIC PHENOMENA. 535 

trance and then told their sitters what they accidentally might 
have heard, or become otherwise cognizant of, in regard to the 
inquirers. 

2. Next we come to a class of phenomena which the medium 
may produce by fraudulent means. 

These phenomena comprise that large class of so-called 
physical manifestations, and because they are physical they have 
been investigated by a large number of persons. It is astonish- 
ing to see with what ingenuity and tenacity this labor has been 
pursued, and for what various reasons. By some it has evidently 
been done with the noble purpose of settling the uncertainties 
in their own minds, and to rid mankind, if possible, of super- 
stitious beliefs ; others seem intent to prove absolutely that 
they were right from the first and that-'*' the whole thing" is 
a miserable fraud ; while still others, creatures of the lowest 
plane, are obviously moved by mere mercenary purposes. It 
cannot be my purpose to exemplify here these different classes 
of investigators, but I would be amiss if I were to leave un- 
nientioned Mr. S. J. Davey, who evidently belongs to the first 
class. Being first a believer in Spiritualism he was prompted, 
by attending several sittings of a slate-writing medium, to try 
to find out for himself whether such phenomena could be 
produced by jugglery or not — and finally arrived at the follow- 
ing conclusions : 

" The results of my investigation as to the possibilities of 
conjuring in relation to ' psychography ' have been a revela- 
tion to myself, no less than to others. I am aware that in 
addition to the methods which I have employed for producing 
' slate-writing,' there are other methods which I know to be 
conjuring, but which have not yet been shown to me; and I 
should certainly not be convinced of the genuineness of spiritu- 
alistic phenomena of this kind by any testimony, such as I 
have seen recently published in great abundance, which pre- 
sents so many close analogies to the reports of my own con- 
juring performances." (Proc. S. P. R., Part XI, p. 487.) 

He has published in the same volume, pp. 416-486, his in- 
vestigations, with the reports of his sitters, none of whom had 
succeeded in detecting the modus operandi which Mr. Davey 



53G OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

pursued ; and he ascribes the success of his conjuring art 
principally to mal-observation on the part of the sitters. To 
this exposition Mr. Richard Hodgson has given an intro- 
duction, entitled, " The Possibilities of Mal-observation and 
Lapse of Memory from a Practical Point of View," in which 
he very carefully and clearly handles his subject. We may 
unreservedly grant all he says. But what follows from it? 
This, and nothing more — that so-called Spiritualists should be 
very cautious and discriminating, especially in cases of "slate- 
writing," as there is no doubt that the possibilities of mal-ob- 
servation and lapse of memory are real obstacles to getting 
at the bottom of these phenomena. These possibilities are 
undoubtedly clearly stated and at the same time practically 
proved by Mr. S. J. Davey. But do possibilities on one side 
prove the impossibilities of another side ? Like slate-writing, 
so also " tying knots in an endless string," " loosening of a 
medium from his bonds," "ballot-tests," "raised letters made 
to appear on the medium's arm," " materializing hands or feet 
in paraffine," "spirit-photographs," etc., etc., have been success- 
fully imitated; and " The Bottom Facts of the Science of 
Spiritualism," by John W. Truesdell, is a most entertaining 
little book in which these feats are delightfully described, 
showing clearly the possibility of imitating so-called physical 
manifestations. But, I ask again, do possibilities on one side 
prove the impossibility of another side? . So long as we have 
the testimony of men like Hare, Crookes, Wallace, Zollner, 
Baron von Hellenbach, and many other scientists who have 
experimented, and carefully and scientifically experimented, 
and have come to the conclusion that there is still another 
side than a mere physical one to the question, it would be 
rash to assume that by all these possible imitations of 
" physical manifestations " we had reached the " bottom facts" 
of Spiritualism. 

It will take a long time before superstition and prejudice 
will settle to the bottom and allow a clear view of these occult 
psychic phenomena; and I fear that the present genera- 
tion, notwithstanding all the splendid discoveries in physical 
science, will pass away before the perturbed and darkened 



SPIRITUALISTIC PHENOMENA. 537 

waters of intellectual evolution shall have so far cleared up as 
to admit of a quiet and impartial decision in this matter. 

This leads us to the last point, the possibilities of another 
view, as considered from a psychological standpoint 

3. These strange 'phenomena may he the result of an influence 
foreign to the medium. 

That psychic action at a distance (telergy) is an actual fact, 
has been shown in 123. It is a psychic influence upon a mind 
that receives it. 

Consequently the possibility cannot be doubted that a mind 
(always taking for granted its fitness for receiving) may be 
influenced by purely psychic forces foreign to itself. From 
whence do these forces arise? Of psychic forces we know but 
two sources that concern us here : Another mind still in the 
body, and spirits out of the body. The " Unconscious " of 
Hartmann, and the undefined middle class of elementary 
spirits of the Theosophists, hardly belong in the sphere of our 
considerations. 

The first source, the mind of man, is the only existence of 
which we have a positive knowledge, and its influence upon 
other minds I have abundantly proved in the foregoing 
chapters. The second source may be stated as hypothetical. 
We may infer it when its action shows an intelligence which 
the first fails to explain. Yet if we consider the second as a 
continuance of the first — which we are forced to do if we be- 
lieve in the indestructibility of forces — the difference between 
the two is not so very great, because both must then be con- 
sidered as actual, living organisms of psychic forces. 

This being so, it is clear that we cannot deny the possibility 
of departed spirits acting upon material, as well as upon im- 
material forces, in this wonderful world, which consists of 
material and immaterial forces combined (109). This pos- 
sibility becomes greater when we think of the thousands of 
strong ties which fasten the departed to what he left behind, 
and which assure his nearness, presence and willingness to act 
upon what he loved or hated. Give him the means and he 
will do it. These means he may find (another possibility) in 
the so-called media. That media possess an organization easily 
35 



538 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

influenced by foreign psychic forces no one will deny who has 
had the opportunity of observing such persons. They belong 
to the class of sensitives, and are nearly related to somnam- 
bulic and other persons who yield readily to mesmeric influences. 
It appears that under certain conditions the normal activity 
of the outer senses is arrested. We find this especially to take 
place in sleep, and during mesmeric, somnambulic and trance 
states. In 103, 120, and other places, we have shown that the 
cause of these conditions lies in the predominant activity of 
the vital forces, those psychic forces which not only control all 
functiones vitales, but also build and sustain every part of the 
human frame, unbeknown to the self-consciousness of the 
higher senses. The vital forces are, therefore, a most important 
element, which thus far has been entirely overlooked in the 
consideration of occult psychic phenomena. Natural sleep 
is induced by the expenditure of bodily and mental primitive 
forces during the waking state, which must be replenished by 
new acquisitions, and this work is done by the assimilating 
activity of the vital forces (103). The trance-state of a mes- 
merized or a somnambulistic person may be induced in differ- 
ent ways, as has been shown above ; but its cause is likewise the 
heightened and predominant activity of the vital forces. (Com- 
pare 120 and other chapters.) A medium's trance-state may be 
either self-induced or brought about by an agency foreign to the 
medium ; and it consists likewise of a predominance of the vital 
forces over the higher. The medium falls asleep ; that is, the 
activity of his higher sense-organs is arrested. He neither 
sees nor hears at that time, nor does he remember anything 
afterward that has happened during this state. (See 117 and 
others.) Yet he may have been psychically very active all the 
while ; may have seen things which in a normal state he could 
not have seen; may have answered questions which in a nor- 
mal condition he could not have answered. This proves 
clearly that not his primitive forces, but his sense-organs, were 
inactive. The primitive psychic forces, on the contrary, appear 
under such conditions to be liberated from the bondage which, 
in a normal state, fetters them to the bodily organs. How came 
this independence about? If we compare 120 we shall find 



SPIRITUALISTIC PHENOMENA. 539 

that the vital forces in a normal condition engender the activity 
of the sense-organs. When withdrawn from this office, because 
differently applied as mobile elements to the excitation of 
other psychic actions, the activity of the bodily organs must 
cease ; and the primitive higher forces, thus set free, can then 
act independently of the sense-organs and perceive what an 
intercession of sense-organs would have frustrated, because 
bodily organs can be acted upon only by corresponding 
bodily stimuli. There is, then, considered from a psychological 
standpoint, nothing in the way to an acceptance of the possibility 
of a purely psychic interaction between psychic forces ; and its 
reality, so far as it concerns the living, has been sufficiently 
demonstrated in the foregoing chapters. But when we come 
to extend this possibility also to an intercourse between the 
dead and the living, we meet the general outcry : " Impossible! 
for the dead are dead ! " 

Surely, if the dead are dead, they are dead, and it would 
betray an utter want of judgment to assume an intercourse 
with the dead. But who does so foolish a thing? We have 
here again an example of that mental infirmity where 
preconceived ideas dim the judgment of otherwise clear- 
sighted minds. Dead ! It is poor logic to apply the term 
"dead" even to things which are entirely under the control 
of chemical decomposition, because these things really are 
not dead, they are merely changing their composition. In 
this sense we may apply " dead " to the body, after the soul 
has left it; for the body is a compound of material forces, 
which are subject to such changes. The soul, however, is, as 
I have shown throughout this work, an organism of psychic 
and not of material forces, and as such lies absolutely out of 
the range of mechanical and chemical analysis, and con- 
sequently also beyond the grasp of the physical laws of dis- 
solution. 

What, now, follows after death, that is, after the separation 
of soul and body ? Answer : Continued evolution. 

The bodily forces having lost their master, yield to what 
their nature coerces them — to the sole influence of chemism, 
forming new compounds, or entering again into communion 



540 OCCULT PHENOMENA. 

with higher force-, and thus into the composition of new 
li/ving hodies. That is their evolution. The soul, being an 
organism of psychic forces, lies, by virtue of its nature, entirely 
out of the range of chemical action, and consequently cannot 
fall victim to chemical decomposition ; and yet, as surely as 
the body, the soul continues to be subjected to the laws of 
evolution. 

Having shed its material companion, it is true the soul 
can no longer use material organs for seeing, hearing, etc. 
But what of that ? Have we not in our investigations clearly 
found that the soul, even while yet organically combined with 
the body, is, under certain conditions, capable of perceiving 
without the use of the sense-organs,, and also without the 
ordinary sense-stimuli ? Granted, then, that with death the 
soul loses the means (bodily organs) for perceiving mundane 
stimuli, would it follow that then it could not perceive at all? 
Would such an inference not be the common error of con- 
founding condition with cause ? Sense-organs and mundane 
stimuli are the condition of perceiving in this corporeal world, 
but not the cause of perceiving. The real cause of perceiving 
is the primitive psychic forces. When, therefore, the soul 
abandons these corporeal means, it merely changes a condition 
which is no longer of use for its further evolution. The cause 
remains all the same. The primitive forces continue in their 
action, which is now an immediate perceiving of things as 
they exist in their very nature, and not as they appear through 
mediating sense-organs. Death, then, being a change in the 
conditions of existence, does not affect in the least the cause of 
this existence. Therefore, we may assert that departed spirits, 
the souls of men, real men, continue to exist after so-called 
death. 

This assertion is certainly an hypothesis, because the ex- 
istence of spirits cannot be proved by physical means, as spirits 
lie out of the reach of physical means of detection ; but it is an 
hypothesis which we are not only warranted but necessitated 
by the existing psychical facts to establish. We shall have 
to submit to these facts ; and, consequently, the possibility of 
an intercourse between departed spirits and this corporeal 
world is likewise established. 



SPIRITUALISTIC PHENOMENA. 541 

Here ends my task. I cannot be expected to prove how far, 
and in what particular cases, this possibility has been actually 
realized in the millions of spiritualistic experiments with the 
thousands of public and private media, for I am not writing 
a work on Spiritualism. In the elucidation of this subject it 
was my part to state, and to state fairly, that on the one side 
there exist possibilities by which an appearance of communica- 
tion between man and spirit may be produced, and yet be only 
the effect of natural psychical action of mind upon mind ; that 
imitation may and does succeed in taking the appearance of 
spirit interaction, and yet be only the result of cleverly con- 
strued physical contrivances. On the other side, I had to 
show that the assumption of a like possibility of an inter- 
course between man and departed spirits is not only warranted 
but necessitated by the existing psychical facts, because this 
assumption is in accord with the nature of the soul of man, 
and the laws by which the psychic organism is governed 
throughout its existence in this wonderful world of psychic 
and material forces combined. 



THE END. 



Jl 






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